


Holiday Spirit

by AsexualDerek (Cammerel)



Series: Holiday Spirits AU [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Bestiality, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cheesy, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Crying, Crying Stiles, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Fluff, Gift Giving, Holidays, Kissing, Knotting, Like REALLY fucking cheesy, M/M, MENTION OF:, Mistletoe, Oral Knotting, Scenting, Skull Fucking, Surprise Kissing, and a, double-sided dildo, sex with an inanimate object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:12:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/AsexualDerek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets Derek a gift for winter holiday exchange and presents it to him in front of the entire pack. Unbeknownst to him, though, Derek suddenly feels obligated to give a gift in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda a series of shorts running over holidays. It does have a story line to follow, and there will be more fer New Year's, Valentine's Day and so on, when we reach those Holidays.

December, 23rd, 4:34 pm  


This is a horrible idea, that much Stiles is avidly aware of, but he’s spent entirely too much time on just wrapping the damn thing alone to chicken out now. Not to mention the fact that he actually spent money on it, so he can’t just back down and take the gift back. He waits until the rest of the group is distracted, laughing and smiling and swapping gifts before meandering over to where Derek is, sitting in the corner watching everyone.

Stiles swallows nervously and musters up what little nerves he has, then pulls the box from under his arm and holds it out for the older man, a feeble smile in place, “Merry Christmas, Scrooge.”

Derek’s watching Isaac and Scott as Stiles walks up to him, but since most of the pack is to his left, he anticipates the younger man passing him by entirely.

He stills and tenses when Stiles stops and offers a box to him, eying the gift skeptically, Derek frowns, “What is it?”

“It’s a present,” Stiles says plainly and shakes the box at Derek, “Hence the wrapping and the big red bow… And it’s for you,” He adds, brows raising, “So stop looking at it like there’s a bomb inside and take it.”

Derek can’t think of any possible reason for **Stiles** of all people to get him a gift. He had considered telling everyone not to bother, but had then figured that it’d just be common sense, and didn’t anticipate someone **actually** getting him something. He takes the gift, even though receiving it makes him feel uneasy, and slowly starts to open it, peeling each piece of tape from the wrapping as he keeps his eyes downcast.

Stiles shifts anxiously and brings his thumb up to his mouth, biting at his nail as he grins and watches Derek, “I couldn’t help myself,” He says excitedly, glancing over at the group to make sure no one's paying them any attention, “I saw it and I totally thought of you, so I had to get it.”

Derek doesn’t respond back as he finally pulls the box from the paper and opens it, stopping completely and narrowing his brows, “ _Stiles_ ,” He says slowly, and if it was possible to frown more, he would’ve. He’s not sure exactly what he was expecting, but this isn’t even close.

Stiles tries not to let his face fall too much at Derek’s reaction, “I know,” He says quickly, “It’s like, super fucking cheesy and whatnot, but it’s… It’s-I thought it was funny,” He amends, wishing that maybe he **would’ve** taken it back.

“Funny?” Derek asks rhetorically, and he’s always been aware his sense of humor was a little different than most of the people around him, but he doesn’t find the gift funny in the **slightest**.

He reaches into the box as he realizes others around them are starting to notice what’s happened, but he pointedly ignores them, the tips of his fingers running over the soft fur of the toy wolf’s back and then he stands up and walks out of the room.

“Derek,” Stiles says weakly in an attempt to get the older man to stop, but freezes when he realizes the entire pack is staring at him with wide, curious eyes. The attention makes him blush and he reaches up to rub at the nape of his neck as he shrugs, “It’s Christmas,” He lamely explains, “Everyone deserves a gift.”

Peter raises a brow slowly as he watches after his nephew, “What did you get him?” He asks curiously, chuckling as he considers what would’ve made Derek react in such a way.

“Like I’d tell **you** ,” Stiles responds and moves closer to the group before settling down on the floor next to the table.

“But you’ll totally tell me later, right?” Scott asks hopefully and shoots him those stupid puppy dog eyes.

“No way,” Stiles insists, but it’s fruitless because, if he tells anyone, it’ll be Scott.

Peter rolls his eyes and sits back, smiling as he watches Stiles, “I guess you’re leaving me no choice but to imagine what it could be,” He says with a glint in his eyes, “Was it… A barbie doll?”

Stiles’s mouth pops open and he gapes at Peter, narrowing his eyes as he shakes his head, “ **Really**? A barbie doll, that’s the best you can come up with?”

He snorts at the werewolf and draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, “Just give up, dude, I’m not telling you anything.”

“Well, I would’ve asked if it was a double-sided dildo, but I was trying to think of something that would _offend_ him,” Peter shrugs, “It was small, but it wasn’t a DVD or a game, was it-”

“Was it a weapon?” Allison asks curiously, “A knife?”

“No,” Stiles says, glaring weakly at Peter before looking at Allison, expression softening, “Like he’d need a weapon, the guy has claws for fuck’s sake.”

“What kind of person even **bothers** getting that guy a gift?” Jackson asks from his seat, “It’s pretty obvious he didn’t want anything, even I could tell that.”

Instead of humoring Jackson with a reasonable response, Stiles just narrows his eyes at him and shrugs, “And you’re here… Why?”

Jackson points to his own gift and smirks, “People actually want **me** here, I guess it’s a curse or something. I wasn’t going to bother, but Lydia convinced me to come.”

Stiles’s eyes flit accusingly to Lydia and she smiles sweetly at him, shrugging flippantly, “'Tis the season,” She says.

“Well,” Stiles says and looks back at Jackson, “Maybe you should just go with your instinct next time and not bother, I know I could’ve done without you here. As a matter of fact, I think I’m gonna head out.”

“Someone’s overreacting,” Jackson says, still smiling as Lydia punches him in the arm.

“Maybe, but you’re still a dick, so…” Stiles stands and pulls his phone from his pocket, checking it to make sure his dad hasn’t sent him any messages. He doesn’t really understand how fucked up things must be if people feel more inclined to get Jackson something, as opposed to Derek.

“'So…' What? Was that it?” Jackson asks in confusion.

“Jackson, shut up,” Allison says, giving him a pointed look and then watching Stiles in concern, “It was a nice gesture, Stiles, even if he didn’t want it. At least **he** deserves a gift.”

“Exactly,” Stiles says and kind of wants to kiss Allison’s cheek, she’s always such a diplomat, “So uh,” He looks at Scott then, “Are you getting a ride with her,” He gestures to Allison, “Or were you coming with me?”

“Oh,” Scott says slowly and looks at Allison for a moment, grinning before looking back at his best friend, “Yeah, if it’s okay with you I’ll just go with her.”

“It’s cool,” Stiles nods and collectively waves at the group before sauntering out, eyes on his phone as he sends his dad a message letting him know he’s on his way home.

“Later!” He yells when he reaches the big, metal doors.

* * *

December, 24th, 11:20 am  


Though Derek hadn’t asked for a gift, he’d still taken it from Stiles, and family tradition was to give after you’ve gotten. He doesn’t even want to, but he feels obligated to do it, so he leaves the house the moment he can, driving to the nearest store that isn’t a gas station or a food store. He climbs out of the car, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he warily watches the people rushing in and out of the front doors.

He isn’t into shopping for general, everyday purposes, let alone purchasing something while the aisles are crowded with people ready and willing to invade his personal space. But he doesn’t have a choice, so he presses his arms as close to his body as he can, taking up as small a space as possible as he walks briskly into the store.

Derek isn’t even sure what he’s supposed to be getting for Stiles. He probably knows enough about Stiles to at **least** make a purchase of some sort, but he doesn’t know where to start. He ends up in what he assumes is the back of the store, around bikes and large yard equipment, but figures that’s the last place he should look. Unfortunately, even the farthest place in the back is overwhelmingly crowded.

He makes his way to the entertainment section and would consider buying a laptop or something but he doesn’t know what Stiles has already, or even what he’d want. The last thing Derek understands is **anything** computer related, so he joins the line of people waiting for the nearest store representative to become available.

The woman in front of him backs up into him to make way for a man walking between them and he changes his mind, resisting the urge to shove her away as he leaves the line and starts looking over the video games instead, standing at a distance from the other people pressed against the glass, pointing out things to one another.

Derek presses his lips together, breathing impatiently through his nose as he starts paying attention to what the people are saying. Most of them seem to be looking for one game in particular, and he settles for getting that one. It’s the best guess he’s got, even though it’s a shot in the dark, but when he finally decides on getting it, he realizes that he has an even harder choice to make: there are consoles as well.

He looks up at the large display of black and green for ‘Xbox’, but he doesn’t know what Stiles has, and he can’t remember the younger man even mentioning what he **does** play video games on. He pushes passed a crowd of people and takes one of the games, then walks to the shelf for ‘PS3’ and takes one from there as well. He also takes a PC version, just in case, and then leaves the area completely.

He’s practically bristling at this point, shoving passed people and growling when someone bumps into him, finally managing to make it to a cash register that has about eight people waiting in line with carts full of stuff, but it’s the smallest line he can see.

The person behind him practically shoves their cart into his backside and when he turns to say something to them, he stops when he sees the little girl pushing it and staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” She says sweetly and smiles at him, her two front teeth missing.

Derek lets out a huff of breath before turning back around and staring forward, growing more impatient as he waits.

The little girl smiles even wider when the older man looks away, little hands tightening on her cart as she shoves forward with more force, hitting the backs of his ankles.

Derek growls and turns suddenly, eyes flashing as he glares down at her. With anyone else, he would’ve shoved the cart back at them, but she’s just a child - albeit a very **stupid** one.

The flashing eyes startle the little girl and she stills, her own going wide as her bottom lip begins trembling violently and her eyes well up with tears. Wailing suddenly, she abandons the cart entirely and takes off running in the opposite direction.

The werewolf ignores the people around him, some just staring and others saying things under their breath, but he doesn’t particularly care, turning back and staring forward as he waits. It takes nearly ten minutes for him to get out of the store after that, but he manages to get through it without growling at anyone else.

He tosses the bag into the passenger’s side seat and stares at the games, considering gift wrapping them, but he doesn’t want to go back into the store. He can’t just **hand** them to Stiles, though, but giving them to him in the store bag is just as careless.

Derek looks back up at the front doors of the store and sighs before climbing back out of the car.

* * *

December, 24th, 7:53 pm

Derek had left for the store around eleven in the morning, but he doesn’t get to Stiles’s house until almost eight, after having to go through the people in the store **twice** and then taking almost three hours to actually _wrap_ the fucking present… Three times, because he did it wrong the first two, he manages to get to the boy’s home without actually killing someone.

He walks up to the door, practically huffing with each step and then stopping and reaching out to knock twice before standing still and waiting as he glares down at the gift.

Stiles jerks up from where he’s lying lazily on the couch, wondering if maybe his dad forgot his house key or something, because he knows it isn’t Scott - he’s with Allison. He grumbles nonsensically to himself as he pushes off of the cushions and makes his way to the door, slinging it open and stilling when his eyes meet Derek’s.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” He asks, brows narrowing in confusion.

Derek stares at Stiles in frustration, like it isn’t obvious why he’d be at the younger man’s house, and then he shoves the gift at Stiles, practically seething as he starts to leave.

“Hey,” Stiles complains and clutches the gift as he reaches out with his other hand, grabbing the werewolf’s arm to keep him from leaving just yet, “I dunno what crawled up your ass, but you can stick around long enough for me to open whatever the fuck this is,” He says, raising his brows at the older man before warily letting go of him.

“Fine,” Derek huffs as he turns and stares at the younger man, waiting and stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

Trying not to snicker at the wrapping, Stiles removes the tape and unwraps it, mouth popping open as he stares at the games for a solid minute or two, then he looks up at Derek, “You know you totally didn’t have to get me anything, right?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the older man to say anything, “I got you a stuffed wolf for crying out loud, you-you didn’t have to get me these.”

Derek doesn’t respond, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he stares at Stiles silently. Clearly, he doesn’t understand how this works, which is typical, but the werewolf doesn’t feel particularly in the mood to explain it all to Stiles. He’s already responded properly, and that’s that.

“Seriously,” Stiles continues on despite Derek’s silence and shakes his head, “I-I didn’t get you something because I wanted-”

He stops when his gaze drifts up and spots the mistletoe, and he’s even more confused for all of a second, because he doesn’t remember putting it up, but then he chuckles and rubs his free hand over his face as he levels his eyes with the older man’s. Jerking his chin and glancing up subtly, he smiles at Derek and waits for the werewolf to look.

The werewolf frowns and looks up slowly, hands balling into fists and he almost **actually** sighs because he’s had enough of this entire fucking day already. Considering the lengths he just went to in order to procure a gift in exchange for Stiles’s, the traditionalist inside of him feels obligated once again. On the bright side, this one is actually easier.

He looks back at Stiles and lifts a brow before reaching out and grabbing the back of the boy’s neck, pulling him close as Derek presses their lips together. He isn’t entirely quick about it, either, lips lingering for a moment as he stares at the younger man’s face.

Stiles had honestly just found the mistletoe dangling there humorous more than anything and he certainly hadn’t anticipated Derek taking it to heart, given his sour mood, but it takes him by surprise and he almost drops the games.

He feels frozen in place for a moment and he questions his sanity, because if he’s not imagining shit, then he has a very grumpy werewolf’s lips pressed insistently to his own.

Finally, and in an act of complete stupidity, Stiles moves in closer and reaches up with his free hand to touch Derek’s chest as he kisses him back.

Derek smiles slowly in contentment and his other hand rests on Stiles’s waist for a moment as their mouths move together, his heart racing a little before he lets go and avoids eye contact with the other man as he walks away.

“Thanks,” Stiles mumbles numbly as he watches Derek leave in a stupor, cheeks flushed pink as he stands there, unable to really think about anything other than the weight of the older man’s hand against his waist, and the slightly chapped, but soft lips that are always pulled into a permanent scowl.

* * *

December, 25th, 10:36 am

Stiles manages to convince himself that the kiss was entirely imagined, probably a little too much eggnog or something and his subconscious just ran wild with possibilities. But that doesn’t mean he finds it any easier to look Derek in the eyes as he shoves two of the games back at him resolutely.

“Take these back and get your money back, I only really needed the PC one, anyway,” He says, raising his brows expectantly as he waits for Derek to take them.

“Keep them,” Derek responds at once, not even bothering to look at the games as he walks back into the loft, leaving the door open. The last thing in the entire fucking world that he wants to do is to go back into that store for **any** reason.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with them?” Stiles asks and follows the werewolf in without hesitating, “I don’t need three of the same exact game, Derek.”

“Throw them away, I don’t care, they’re yours,” Derek says as he rolls his eyes and sits on the couch.

Stiles stops in front of the coffee table and stares down at the older man, “Do you know how much these games cost?” He shakes his head, “Of course you do, you bought them, so why would I throw them away?”

He drops them down onto the stand and sighs as he meanders about, then plops down on Derek’s bed, “They’re too expensive, take them and get your money back.”

“Stiles,” Derek sighs in annoyance and shakes his head, “I’m not going back in that store. I don’t care what you do with them, I bought them **for** you.” He can’t really explain it any better than that, but there’s literally **nothing** that could make him go back, a couple dollars is a small price to pay.

“Why are you so stub- _ow_ ,” Stiles shifts on the bed when he feels something digging into his ass, then lifts up and reaches under the cover to pull it out. He splutters a little bit when he looks at the plush wolf, but after a moment he begins to grin slowly and looks at Derek, “You kept this?”

Derek stands from the couch and snatches the toy from Stiles, “No, I didn’t. I threw it away,” He says in a clipped voice as he moves back to his seat, sitting down and avoiding Stiles’s eyes as he keeps the wolf in hand, his fingers scratching the soft fur of it as he clears his throat.

Stiles watches Derek curiously and stands up from the bed, slowly moving closer and crossing his arms, “Well, if you threw it away, then how exactly did it end up in your bed?...” He asks, “ _Under the **covers**_ , no less,” He adds smugly.

“Isaac, probably,” Derek responds, trying to think off the top of his head, “Or Peter, I don’t really care, you have an imagination, use it.”

“Oh, I’m using it alright,” Stiles chuckles as he imagines Derek all snuggled up with the plush wolf, “You totally kept it, you kept it and you’ve been sleeping with it. That’s cute.”

“That’s…” _Not even remotely close, but it’ll do_ , “Quite an imagination you have,” Derek says sarcastically, finally looking at Stiles, “Don’t you have other people you can bother besides for me?”

“You’re at the top of my list right now,” Stiles informs him and props his hands on his hips, “And I’ll have you know I do have one hell of an imagination, I was just trying to keep things PG.”

He looks down at the plushy and smirks again, “What, did you like, rip a hole in it and fuck it or something? Because if you’re that lonely, man, all you had to do was ask.”

Derek stills and looks down at the toy, that’s not quite it either, but it’s kind of close, and it isn’t a matter of being _lonely_ , “I don’t think **that’s** imagination,” He says as he looks at Stiles, eyes running over the boy’s body, “But you sound like **you’re** lonely.”

Stiles swallows and feels his skin go hot when he notices Derek’s eyes raking down over his body, “Yeah? And how do you figure?”

“You came here, didn’t you?” Derek asks rhetorically, “And then you practically offered yourself,” He scratches his dull nails through the fur atop the toy wolf’s head, “Because I kissed you?”

Stiles straightens his back and gets a **little** defensive, if anything, maybe it’ll mask the pink tinge to his cheeks, “Okay, big guy, first of all I came here to bring those games back because I felt guilty over you spending so much money. Second of all, I so did **not** offer myself, that was-it was so totally a joke. So yeah, you can get over yourself.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek says, easily recognizing the lie, and he decides to leave it, for now, “Gift giving isn’t about money. It’s about the act itself.”

“It’s about giving,” Stiles agrees and looks at Derek warily, “And not expecting anything in return. Dude, I literally spent five bucks on you and you wasted two hundred on me. Just… Take those two back,” He says weakly, gesturing to the games.

Derek growls in annoyance, “For someone that seems to understand it’s not about money, you keep bringing it up. And I’ve already told you twice that I don’t want to take them back. Going there in the first place was bad enough. I’m **not** doing it again.”

“If braving the holiday crowds was so horrible, then maybe you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” Stiles says somewhat petulantly, growing irritated with Derek’s perpetually sour mood, “I didn’t want anything in return, you ass.” Rolling his eyes at the older man, he glances at the games, then starts off towards the door, leaving them on the table.

“That wasn’t the point of the gift,” Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles’s attitude, taking the games from the table and moving to the trash can against the opposite wall to drop them into it before he tosses the wolf toy back on the bed and sits on the couch once more.

Stiles stops and turns to look at Derek, “No? Then what _was_ it? Did you feel fucking obligated or something to reciprocate?”

“When you’re given a gift, it’s only civil to give one in return, if you’re capable,” Derek responds, “Don’t make it sound like an insult.”

“But it kind of **is** ,” Stiles snorts, “You can’t honestly say you’d give me a gift under **any** other circumstance. Nice to know the gift wasn’t really from the kindness of your heart, as if that’s even possible in the first place. I’ll be sure to bring back the other game as well, seeing as you only got them for me out of _obligation_.”

“I don’t think you realize how backwards you’re responding,” Derek scoffs and shakes his head, “If I wanted to insult you, I would’ve given you your gift back, or given you something I **knew** you wouldn’t like. Returning a ‘kindness’ is an act of being human, that’s what it is. I probably **wouldn’t** have given you a gift under another circumstance, but that’s not because I couldn’t care less, it’s because… Of other reasons.”

“What other reasons?” Stiles asks at once, suddenly curious as he moves closer once more.

“Because then, I actually would’ve felt obligated for the **wrong** reasons,” Derek says at once, “Getting you something because I felt I had to, because of an occasion, and I’m not the kind of person that just _buys_ something for someone.”

Stiles considers Derek’s words and deflates finally, shoulders dropping a little, “Well, thanks,” He says and stalks over to the trashcan to dig the games out, thankfully it’s mostly nothing but paper and bags.

Derek isn’t sure if he should say ‘thanks’ back, for the toy, or ‘your welcome’ for his own gift, or something to acknowledge the boy’s sudden understanding, so he just nods silently and watches Stiles for a moment, “You’re the one that didn’t have to get me anything, not the other way around.”

Stiles tucks the games under his arm and pockets his hands, “Yeah, I know,” He says weakly, “But given how many times you’ve saved my ass and how much you’ve done for the pack in general, I figured you deserved something. It was- It’s stupid, anyway. I mean, getting a grown ass man a plush wolf just because it ‘reminded me of you’. I really wouldn’t blame you if you threw it away.”

“Getting me anything else would’ve been just as weird,” Derek says and shrugs, standing up and walking to Stiles, smiling slowly. It’s kind of surprising how much Stiles has actually taken into consideration, even Derek didn’t really think much of what he’d done, but hearing it from someone else is pleasant.

“It’s the thought that counts,” He continues as he stops in front of Stiles and stares at him pointedly, “You didn’t have to, but you did, thank you.”

Stiles stares at Derek and wets his lips, kind of taken back by the older man’s smile and he belatedly forces himself to nod, “No problem, big guy,” He assures, and he knows he needs to go now, but he stands still and stares a little longer than what would be platonically acceptable.

Derek feigns a glance upwards before moving in close, grabbing Stiles’s chin and kissing him before the younger man can look up as well. The first one could’ve been misconstrued as chaste, somewhat, but he’s forceful this time - opening his mouth and running his tongue over Stiles’s lips as he holds the younger man there, his free hand taking Stiles’s arm and pulling their bodies against one another.

Stiles is pretty sure Derek can read his mind or something, or maybe it was the not so subtle licking of his lips and staring, either way… He doesn’t waste any time before reciprocating this time, because he wants to make the most of it while it’s happening.

The games fall from under his arm and he reaches up, fisting the nape of Derek’s neck firmly as he kisses back, trying not to come off too eager or moan into the kiss.

The werewolf growls in approval, arms wrapping around Stiles’s waist as he reacts instinctively, running his tongue over the younger man’s, kissing with abandon as his hands grab at Stiles’s shirt and he moves the boy back, pressing him against the wall as Derek groans.

Stiles whimpers and arches his back off of the wall, pressing his groin up against the older man’s as he reaches up with his other hand and fists the collar of Derek’s shirt, pulling him in almost desperately. The kiss is anything but gentle and he’s even sure his lips will be swollen afterwards, but he can’t be bothered to care, because Derek’s kissing him again and it’s **seriously** good.

Derek breaks the kiss finally, biting and nipping down Stiles’s neck as his hands drop down, grabbing the younger man’s thighs as he turns to whisper in Stiles’s ear, “ _Look up_.”

Stiles blinks slowly and whines a little in the back of his throat, but drops his head back regardless and glances up, fully expecting to see mistletoe or something. He furrows his brows in confusion when he doesn’t see anything, though.

“There’s no mistletoe,” He says plainly and it takes him a moment to realize exactly what that means, but when it hits him, he grins like an idiot, “Oh my God, there’s **no** mistletoe.”

“ _Just a roof_ ,” Derek mutters and lifts Stiles up, wrapping his legs around his waist as he pulls back to look at the boy, “And the one above **your** door was fake,” He says pointedly, smiling slowly, “That’s the last thing you should want me to feel **obligated** to do.”

“You never would’ve kissed me if I wouldn’t have pointed the mistletoe out,” Stiles says lowly and tightens his legs around Derek’s waist, hands clutching at the older man’s shoulders.

“But what I think you’re saying, is that you totally used it as an excuse to kiss me? I dunno, but either way, I’m kinda glad, and I think you should make with the whole kissing thing again. Too much talking and not enough lip touching.”


	2. New Year's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles calls Derek during New Years, once he's had a few too many tequila shots and the liquid courage starts kicking in. Needless to say, he asks a few questions and says a few things he'll likely regret in the morning.

December, 31st, 11:12 pm

Stiles leans forward a little from where he’s sitting on Lydia’s front steps and clutches his phone to his ear, everything’s spinning and he feels pleasantly warm all over, but he doesn’t want to be here, not when he could be with his boyfriend.

The ringing in his ear makes him feel a little woozy, but he shakes it off the best he can and ignores the thumping of the music coming from inside, waiting as patiently as possible for Derek to pick up.

* * *

Derek frowns as the cell rings in his pocket, he quickly pulls it out and answers as he turns down the volume on the tv, “If you’re trying to leave a drunken message on my voicemail, I’m gonna hang up on you.”

* * *

“No, no, don’thanguponme,” Stiles says a little too quickly and slurs all his words together, “Derek,” He drawls out and chuckles, “Come’n get me, please?”

* * *

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?” Derek asks in confusion as he watches the muted Avengers movie still playing on his tv screen, “Isn’t that why you went out tonight? Why would I pick you up when the point was the party that takes place **after** midnight?”

* * *

Stiles stands up and wobbles forth a little, blinking slowly as he tries to get the grass to stop swirling, “Th’party’s no fun without you here,” He says and bends over a little, squinting at the lawn, “And Lyd’s front yard looks like a vortex, s’gonna swallow me up if you don’t come save me.”

* * *

Derek frowns and he feels a little nervous suddenly that Stiles, being away from others, might end up getting himself killed in his drunken state, “Stay **exactly** where you’re at, I’ll be there soon,” He says as he tosses the toy wolf onto the bed and ends the call.

* * *

Stiles throws his fist up in triumph, but also subsequently slings his phone across the grass before falling face first, grunting when he hits the ground. He doesn’t bother getting up, instead, he just rolls to his back and stares up at the moon as he waits on Derek.

* * *

The werewolf pulls on his jacket and leaves the loft, driving to Lydia’s house as quickly as possible, growing more uneasy as the time passes. He parks outside and climbs out of the car without turning it off, walking over to Stiles and taking the seat on the ground by him, “Are you sure you don’t wanna stay?”

Stiles tries to blink himself out of his haze and rolls his head a little to look up at Derek, and the guy kind of looks like a grumpy fucking angel or something, complete with some kind of glowing halo around his head, or maybe his eyes are just playing tricks on him.

“Rather be with you,” He blurts out and thankfully he’s not really in the right mind to feel embarrassed.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek says in annoyance as he looks at the younger man, “You’re being unreasonable. When you left earlier, it was clear you wanted to be with your friends for this… Ritual new year celebration party.”

“Der-Derek,” Stiles grunts and grabs a hold of the older man’s jacket to pull himself upright, narrowing his brows as he tries to focus his vision on the werewolf, “I’m-I’m allowed t’have a change of heart, okay?” They’ve only been fooling around for about a week and they’re not _technically_ dating yet, but being with Derek and kissing him at midnight beats out swapping spit with someone he doesn’t even know.

Derek sighs and rolls his eyes, “Where do you want me to take you, Stiles?”

Stiles decidedly ignores Derek’s usual moodiness and grins, eyes a little bloodshot, “Back t’your place, big guy,” He says suggestively.

Derek frowns and stands up, walking Stiles to the car and opening the passenger’s side door, “If that’s what you’re _sure_ you want, but if you have a ‘change of heart’ on the drive back, I’m taking you to **your** house.”

“Y’know,” Stiles says thoughtfully and his body sways closer to Derek’s, “You don’t have to-to frown and be so grumpy all the time.” He reaches up and pats the werewolf’s chest before kissing him chastely, moving to practically drop into the passenger side seat, “I’d still like you if you smiled once’n a while.”

“I don’t frown just for you,” Derek responds and closes the door after Stiles, starting to walk around the car but stops as he catches Stiles’s scent a distance away and sighs again before moving to retrieve the boy’s cell phone.

He walks back to the car, climbing in and handing it to Stiles, both brows raised, “Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not,” Stiles mumbles and takes the phone, lips pursed as he shakes his head and slouches down against the seat, trying to get comfortable, “Do you like me?” He asks suddenly and inwardly curses how alcohol crushes his inhibitions.

“If I **didn’t** like you, I wouldn’t be here,” Derek responds as he drives away from Lydia’s house, glancing at Stiles, “Put your seatbelt on.”

Stiles clambers for said seatbelt and struggles with it, flailing before managing to get it buckled, “No, but I mean, _like_ me like me. Like…” He sighs and leans to press his heated cheek to the cool window, “N’vermind.”

Derek feels his body tense up as Stiles speaks but he relaxes the moment the younger man drops the subject. He’s not fully prepared to answer a loaded question like that, not when it comes completely out of left field, “You shouldn’t ask serious questions when you’re drunk.”

“S’the best time to ask,” Stiles counters weakly and closes his eyes, because watching the scenery pass as Derek drives is only making his stomach roll, “Not as many reservations, liquid courage and all that.”

“Liquid courage is for cowards,” Derek responds, shaking his head, “And you’re **not** a coward. Ask me when you’re sober and I might just answer. Until you can do that, you can stay… _Reserved_.”

Stiles huffs out his annoyance, but it’s gone just as soon as he feels it, because he’s literally unable to stay miffed like this, when he has alcohol coursing through him, “I like you,” He admits stubbornly and wants to argue that he is a coward, but he doesn’t, “You **definitely** don’t make it-you don’t make it easy, but I do.”

“Stiles,” Derek lets out a tight breath and looks at the boy as he continues to drive, “Don’t make me knock you unconscious for the rest of this ride.”

Stiles zones out and only catches one word of what Derek says, so he opens his mouth and goes with it before he can stop himself, “I’d like t’ride you,” He says weakly, wetting his lips and grimacing at the taste of alcohol on them, “So many- _so_ many things I wanna do with you.”

“None of which are happening tonight,” Derek responds, “You’re drunk, Stiles, stop talking.”

Stiles tries to sit upright then and wavers a little, resting his forearm on the console to steady himself as he looks at Derek, “Why can’t it happen t’night?” He asks, “I’m willing, so it’s… It’s not like you’d be takin’ advantage of me.”

“You’re willingly **drunk** ,” Derek says as he reaches out to steady Stiles himself, “That’s not the same thing. That’s not willing at all.”

“We’ve been fooling around for like, a week,” Stiles argues, but there’s no heat to it, “Y’can’t tell me I’m not willing, that I don’t want you.”

Derek parks at the loft and turns to look at Stiles completely, “You know how this works, your father is the sheriff, I’m sure you know what qualifies as **rape** and what doesn't, Stiles. You’re drunk, you’re not making a choice on your own, fully aware, now stop trying to convince me otherwise, I can _smell_ how drunk you are.”

Stiles stares into Derek’s pale eyes and he’s somewhat mesmerized, but he manages to nod, even though he hasn’t given up yet, “Will you carry me?” He asks suddenly and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder.

“You got yourself drunk,” Derek responds as he gently pushes Stiles back into his own seat, “You can walk yourself up to the loft.”

“Derek,” Stiles whines and makes an attempt at getting his door open, “I know you’re not this cruel,” He says, looking at the handle with determination as his mind tries to process if he needs to pull in or push out.

Derek climbs out of the car, walking around to Stiles’s side and helping him out. He yanks Stiles up onto his feet before lifting him off of them and carrying the younger man across the parking lot.

Stiles grins to himself and buries his face against Derek’s neck to stave off the vertigo, arms circling the older man’s neck, “My werewolf in shining armor.”

“Shut up,” Derek mutters as he walks into the elevator and reaches out to punch the button for the third floor.

Snorting against the warm skin, Stiles kisses at the stubble mindlessly, “Time izzit?” He asks.

“You’re the one that’s in position to look at a cell phone,” Derek says, raising a brow expectantly.

“Nuh uh,” Stiles argues and shakes his head, tightening his arms around the older man’s neck, “Why can’t you wear a wristwatch like a normal person?”

“After I broke the fourth, it seemed pointless,” Derek shrugs and turns to rest his lips against Stiles’s hairline, it makes no difference to him what the time is, so the joke’s on Stiles.

“Mm,” Stiles hums and runs his hand over the back of Derek’s head, fingertips carding through the short hair, “Need to know what time it is.”

Derek closes his eyes for a moment, appreciating the touch and collecting himself, setting Stiles down and opening the door for the loft, “You have a cell phone, use it.”

Stiles stumbles through the door and looks down at the steps for a moment, then decides to sit down and slide forward, scooting to the bottom step before clambering back up to his feet, “You should totally reach into my pocket and get it for me,” He smirks and starts fighting with his flannel overshirt, trying to get it off.

“I’m not as concerned about the time as you are,” Derek says as he walks over to the bed and sits down, watching the younger man warily.

Stiles hobbles and weaves his way towards the bed and stops when he gets the overshirt caught on his head, arms stuck in the air and he sighs, “If you won’t get my phone, y’think maybe you could help me get undressed?”

Derek narrows his brows and reaches out, grabbing Stiles’s waist to still him. His eyes run over the younger man’s body, his exposed bare stomach from the shirt underneath riding up and Derek swallows tentatively as he reaches up with his free hand and tugs the overshirt up and off Stiles’s head.

Stiles blows out a huff of breath before tossing the fabric to the floor, vision still shifting, but he braces himself with a hand to Derek’s shoulder before leaning down to kiss him, “I’ll tackle the t-shirt, think you can handle my pants?” He asks and leans back up, almost tumbling backwards.

“Right,” Derek says slowly, feeling more uneasy, but reaching down to unbutton the boy’s pants.

“Cool,” Stiles mumbles and pulls at the hem of his shirt, torso twisting a little as he tugs the fabric off. He’s never been this exposed in front of Derek before, but he doesn’t really feel any sense of shame or embarrassment as he watches the older man’s fingers work on his jeans.

Derek unzips Stiles’s pants and tugs them down his hips, helping him out of them and breathing as calmly as possible as he tries to keep his eyes from Stiles’s body any more, “Are you sleeping here?”

“That’s the idea,” Stiles shrugs and moves forward, steadying himself with his hands on Derek’s shoulders once more as he settles himself in the older man’s lap, “You’re not a bed hog, are you?”

Derek rolls his eyes and dumps Stiles onto the bed **beside** him, “I’m not sure. Do you snore obnoxiously loud?”

“Likely,” Stiles nods and looks at Derek longingly for a moment, then shifts to his knees to crawl up the bed, reaching out to snag the plush wolf and he clutches it close as he drops down against the mattress, “Slobber, too.”

“I’m not surprised,” Derek says as he watches Stiles, standing up then to undress himself. Meeting up and making out is one thing, but they’ve only been going at it for a week, so the thought of Stiles staying the night makes him uneasy.

“I take offense to that,” Stiles mutters and watches Derek with rapt attention, “Will you please check the time on your phone before you get in bed?” He asks sleepily, the effects of the alcohol making him drowsy.

Derek steps out of his shoes and takes off his pants, “Why does the time matter? You’re going to sleep, chances are you’ll wake up late in the morning, regardless of what time you go to sleep now.”

“Derek,” Stiles says pleadingly and raises his brows, “It just-It matters, okay? I need to know what time it is.”

Derek sighs and takes his phone from his pocket, glancing at the time, “It’s 11:58,” He says, handing over the cell and laying down on the right side of the bed.

Stiles looks at the phone and reaches up to sit it on the headboard, then proceeds to kick at the comforter with his feet, wriggling underneath of it before tugging it up to his underarms, plush wolf still clutched in one arm. He still has about two minutes, so he counts down in his head as well as he can.

Derek reaches out and touches the wolf doll, fingers scratching at it’s fur before he reaches passed Stiles to turn out the lamp and lay down on his back once more. He doesn’t bother with moving close to Stiles, still feeling wary about the boy being in bed with him while he’s drunk. This was the last thing he’d anticipated happening tonight, having someone in his bed in general is kind of a rarity in itself.

When Stiles is marginally sure it’s midnight, he sets the plush wolf aside and shifts closer to Derek, even though he knows the older man is going to think it’s more than it is. Tentatively, he leans down and kisses the werewolf before he can be pushed away, reaching up to touch the scruff on Derek’s cheek, “Happy New Year,” He utters lowly, kissing the older man once more before pulling back to get settled on his own side.

“Stiles,” Derek says by way of warning, but stops when he realizes what the boy’s done. He’s unusually aware of superstitions throughout history, and it seems like a simple, unusual one for **Stiles** to want to kiss him at the turning of the new year, but it still manages to make him smile slowly.

He reaches out for the younger man, grabbing him and pulling him over to his side before Derek kisses him back, one hand touching the nape of the boy’s neck, the other wrapping around Stiles’s waist to hold him there.

Stiles can’t help but grin when Derek pulls him back in for more and he reaches up mindlessly, resting his palm on the older man’s clavicle as he kisses back slowly, fingers tracing the bones just under the werewolf’s skin.

Derek rolls onto Stiles completely, the hand on the younger man’s back moving to run up Stiles’s torso as he licks into the boy’s mouth, tongue running over Stiles’s teeth.

Stiles spreads his legs instinctively and it may be the alcohol talking, but this feels oddly more intimate than anything else they’ve ever done. He reaches up and grasps Derek’s shoulders, palms gliding against the smooth skin, down the werewolf’s arms, his sides and his back, just about anywhere he can reach, all in an attempt to spur the older man on.

Derek breaks the kiss for a moment, panting as he looks down at Stiles, the spread of his legs and the werewolf feels his own body responding instinctively.

He’d told Stiles initially that they **weren’t** going to do anything, but seeing the boy like this, it’s hard to keep himself back. He pushes Stiles’s hands away, dropping lower to run his mouth along the boy’s chest, licking and nipping at the skin.

“Oh,” Stiles gasps and although he wants to touch Derek in turn, he’s also perfectly okay with this, so he rests one forearm over his eyes and focuses on the sensation, “That’s nice,” He slurs and he feels so warm all over, warm inside and outside with Derek’s body heat surrounding him.

As much as he wants this, it’s difficult to keep his eyes open and they flutter closed, the lull of the alcohol pulling him under while the older man is still mouthing at his skin.

Derek stops when he hears the sudden change in Stiles’s breathing and he looks up at the younger man, raising a brow before shaking his head and laying down on his back once more. It was a bad idea to try and do anything in the first place, he’s actually grateful Stiles **did** fall asleep, their first time shouldn’t be when Stiles is almost completely out of it.

* * *

January, 1st, 9:54 am

When Stiles wakes up, he finds himself staring at a ceiling he’s not too familiar with and with a dull ache in his head, no doubt from one too many tequila shots. Shifting quietly, he looks to his side and has to do a double take, because he thought it would take longer than this in order to get to the whole 'sleeping in one another’s beds' ordeal.

Derek looks peaceful and for the first time, his mouth is completely lax, no frown or scowl and he can’t help but think that maybe he could get used to this.

An idea comes to him suddenly and, given the fact that they’re in bed together, both of them in nothing but their boxers, he decides that maybe it’d be okay to go through with it. So he shifts closer and moves under the covers carefully, because he’s still unaware of what kind of sleeper Derek is, and settles himself between the older man’s spread legs.

Licking his lips, Stiles musters up the courage to delicately pull Derek’s length out and it’s a shame it’s so dark, because he wouldn’t mind being able to see what he’s about to put his mouth on. Stiles pumps the soft length a few times out of curiosity and then draws it into his mouth, fighting the urge to moan around it as Derek’s musk floods his senses, causing his own dick to harden up.

The older man’s cock is soft against his tongue as he bobs his head gently, trying not to smirk to himself as he feels Derek’s body taking interest, the length thickening in his mouth and it elicits a soft whimper, because it’s probably one of the hottest fucking things he’s ever experienced.

Derek wakes up to probably one of the weirdest sensations he’s ever felt when coming out of sleep, the unusually warm, wet sensation around his cock and Derek’s brows narrow in confusion.

The process is slow, and he looks to his side, swallowing and grimacing at the dry feeling of his throat before he looks down finally and groans, eyes widening as he watches Stiles. He’s not sure if he should acknowledge the boy, or touch him, so he lays still, eyes set, transfixed by what’s happening.

Stiles braces himself when he feels Derek stirring, fully expecting the older man to stop him or push him off, but when neither happens, he risks a glance up and curls his tongue against the underside of the werewolf’s length, moaning weakly in response to the rapidly hardening cock.

“Stiles,” Derek mutters numbly, his hand moving finally to reach down and touch the nape of the boy’s neck. He arches his back off the bed, stretching as his feet slide up the sheets and he smiles, “What are you doing?”

Stiles pulls off slowly and fists the slick length, jacking Derek off as he looks up at the older man, “I’d like to think what I’m doing is pretty obvious,” He says, taking in the werewolf’s smile as he curls his tongue against the plush cap, gathering all the pre-come budding at the slit.

“It **is** obvious,” Derek agrees, groaning at the feeling of the boy’s tongue, “But _why_ are you doing it?” That’s probably obvious as well, but he wants to make sure Stiles is aware of what he’s doing, and not still drunk.

“Because I want to,” Stiles informs him and finally smiles himself, “Duh,” He says affectionately and lowers his mouth back down onto the thick cock, hollowing his cheeks out as he sucks and fights the urge to rut against the mattress.

Derek drops his head back and closes his eyes as he concentrates on the feeling of the boy’s mouth around him.

He can’t even begin to name the last time he had a blow job, the idea of one is almost alien to him entirely, so much so that waking up to it had just been… Completely unexpected, but **really** nice. His fingers move to run through Stiles’s buzzed hair, trying not to cause the boy any form of discomfort by forcing him, accidental or otherwise.

Stiles narrows his brows at how tentative Derek’s touches are and for some reason, it just doesn’t sit right with him, so he pulls off again, lips swollen and spit slick.

“I know you’re not a gentle person, Derek,” He says, running his tongue along his bottom lip, “And I’m okay with that… My mouth is yours, for all intents and purposes, so use it…” He sinks said mouth back down onto the length and doesn’t stop until his lips rest against the beginning of the knot.

Derek’s eyes pop back open and he looks down, watching Stiles and he hesitates for all of a second - considering the boy’s words - before he reaches down with his other hand, cupping Stiles’s cheek firmly as he holds the younger man still and pulls him back enough to arch his hips upwards, his body shaking at the sensation of his length sliding down Stiles’s throat.

Stiles can feel Derek’s body trembling and it’s exactly what he wanted, for the older man to be able to use him and to not hold back, to fuck his mouth until his throat is raw, so he hums his contentment and grips the werewolf’s thighs.

Derek growls suddenly, eyes flashing as he continues the movements of his hips, growing impatient and he has to force himself to stop long enough to make sure Stiles is still breathing, which is probably one of the hardest things he’s had to do in his entire life, considering how badly he wants to sink in completely and knot the boy’s mouth.

The muscles in his legs tighten every time he thrusts back in, a sharp, almost painful gasp escaping his lips as he watches Stiles the best he can.

Stiles stays calm and makes sure to breathe in and out through his nose whenever Derek pulls out, knuckles turning white from where he’s gripping the older man so firmly. Somehow, his own length has managed to slip out of the hole in his boxers and whenever the werewolf sinks into his throat, he rolls his hips against the soft sheets and groans weakly.

“Stiles,” Derek breathes as his thumb runs along the side of the boy’s mouth, wiping at the line of spit running down to his chin.

He clenches his jaw and bucks up a few times roughly, pulling Stiles down and gasping as his knot pushes against the younger man’s teeth, forcing Stiles’s mouth to open wider and the werewolf’s hands tighten, gripping Stiles harder as he holds the boy down and comes.

Derek rolls his hips upwards, keeping Stiles against him as he stares into the younger man’s eyes, chest heaving as he slowly pulls back and lets him go.

Stiles gasps for breath the second Derek let’s him go and he swallows down the remnants of the older man’s come, the bitter taste faint on the back of his tongue as he gazes up at the werewolf, eyes glassy as he tries to catch his breath.

He’s a little disappointed Derek didn’t push him further, didn’t see quite what he’s capable of, but if there’s a next time, he’ll be sure to show the older man.

Derek grabs Stiles firmly around the neck and yanks him back up the bed, laying the boy down and settling atop Stiles, his body pressed against Stiles’s as Derek stares down at him and brushes his nose along the younger man’s cheek, “Would you like me to return the favor?” He asks, raising a brow as he looks down Stiles’s body pointedly.

“Do you really think I’d say no?” Stiles asks and grins as he leans up to kiss Derek, “Besides, it’s not gonna take much, not after that, so by all means…”

Derek’s never actually **given** head before, but he doesn’t bother mentioning that, he can’t imagine it’s terribly difficult.

He reaches down, grabbing the hem of Stiles’s boxers before yanking them down his legs and then Derek situates himself between them, moving low quickly, his hands spreading Stiles’s thighs as he settles between them.

He looks over the length, hard and red, purple at the head, practically dripping, and he salivates, licking his lips before leaning down and pressing his nose against the base, breathing in the strong scent of the boy and then turning to run his tongue up Stiles’s cock.

“ **Oh** my God, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is,” Stiles says in a tight breath and his eyes widen when he feels Derek’s warm tongue against his skin. This is going to be over so embarrassingly fast, he can only hope copious amounts of amazing head in return will make up for it.

Derek smirks at the younger man’s comment, his palms running up Stiles’s sides as he takes the head of the boy’s cock into his mouth and runs his tongue curiously over it. The taste is unusually familiar, but he was expecting as much - Stiles’s scent is normally strong enough to taste on it’s own, so he almost feels like he’s done this already.

Stiles is literally only a few bobs of Derek’s head away from coming, so he reaches out and fists the sheets in one hand and grips the older man’s hair with his other, mouth hanging open as he stares upwards and tries his absolute hardest to stave it off a little longer.

Derek moves slowly, opening his mouth and lowering his head tentatively to take Stiles’s length in. His hands continue to run up the younger man’s torso, reaching up to brush his thumbs along Stiles’s nipples as he glances up.

Letting out a slow, bated breath, Stiles’s entire body tenses with his restraint, “Jesus fucking Christ, Derek,” He utters out and moves his hand from the bed to grab one of the older man’s, pulling it up to his lips to suck the werewolf’s thumb into his mouth to keep himself distracted.

Derek gasps around the length, his tongue running over the head of Stiles’s cock as he feels more than sees the younger man take his hand up and wrap his lips around Derek’s thumb.

He starts to take in more of Stiles’s length, his thumb bending curiously to brush the other man’s tongue before he pulls it back out and presses two fingers into Stiles’s mouth instead, running the pads of them over the top of the boy’s teeth and tongue.

Stiles decides almost at once that sucking on Derek’s fingers in order to keep himself from coming was a horrible idea, because it arouses him just as much as sucking the werewolf’s dick and it makes his balls draw up, an overall hazy feeling beginning to wash over him. He doesn’t even have time to warn Derek before he’s coming, toes curling and hips arching from the bed as he grunts around the digits in his mouth.

Derek feels the length throb against his tongue and he reacts as quickly as possible, mouth filling with the boy’s seed as he moves back and he appreciates the taste for a moment as he pulls his fingers back and breathes calmly, swallowing finally and moving up to lay beside Stiles.

He watches the younger man for a moment, reaching out to run his hand along Stiles’s chest, “Morning.”

“ **Good** morning feels slightly more appropriate given the recent festivities,” Stiles says and reaches up even though he feels lethargic, and he lays his hand over Derek’s, pressing his fingers in between the older man’s as he tries to recall the night before.

Derek chuckles, which probably isn’t something he does often enough, “It does,” He agrees, “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Too much, unfortunately,” Stiles grimaces and rolls his head to the side to look at Derek, his thumb smoothing over the back of the older man’s hand, “I said some pretty bold things, I’m thinking I should have put a disclaimer on my forehead or something. Warning: he gets a little loose with his mouth when he’s drunk.”

“You’re not the first,” Derek says softly, “It **was** fast for a week, though.” Not as fast as it could’ve been, but still fast.

“Uh, what was?” Stiles asks and tries to swallow down the nervous lump forming in his throat, “The blowjobs or me wanting to know in general if you like me?”

“You wanting to know how I felt,” Derek elaborates, “And then you trying to convince me to have sex with you.”

“Shit,” Stiles drawls out and sits up then, shaking his head, “I’m sorry,” He apologizes, “B-But this is-this is who I am. I literally have two speeds; fast and faster. I don’t do slow well at all, with like, anything. I didn’t mean to push you.”

Derek shrugs, “It wasn’t that bad, I would’ve been fine with sex if you weren’t **drunk** , but the idea of doing that the first time doesn’t… It’s not what I want, and I hope it’s not what you want.”

“I’ve kinda had the hots for you for a while now,” Stiles admits and looks at Derek, “So no, it’s not really what I want either. I’d kinda like to remember something like that.”

Derek grabs Stiles’s waist and pulls him close, his hands running up the younger man’s back as he leans in and kisses Stiles chastely, “Likewise, which is why I said ‘no’,” _and then almost slipped up_.

“So,” Stiles says and watches as he places a hand against Derek’s chest, “Revisiting past questions, like you told me to do once sober…” He stares into the werewolf’s pale eyes and narrows his brows, “How do you feel about me?” He asks, then grins, “Do you maybe like, wanna slam me up against hard surfaces a little less now, or…?”

“Less?” Derek asks in confusion and then shakes his head, “No, not less,” He says as he leans in and kisses the younger man again, “A **lot** more, and I don’t think that was a question I told you to ask me again, when you were sober.”

“ _Suddenly fearing for my well being_ ,” Stiles utters and shrugs, “And the question was literally almost the same thing. How do you feel about me? Do you like me? Nuance.”

“That’s not really the same,” Derek responds as he lays back on the bed and stretches again, “You might wanna be less vague.”

“Okay,” Stiles says and moves to straddle Derek’s waist, staring down at him curiously, “Do you like me as more than just a potential fuck buddy?” He asks.

“If that was all I’d wanted, don’t you think I’d have… More of those?” Derek asks back, raising a brow, “Taking Scott’s best friend for something like that doesn’t seem like a smart choice.”

“That’s so not the point,” Stiles says, resting his palms against Derek’s skin, “Would you just answer the fucking question? It’s for my ego, Derek. I need to hear you say it.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “I want more with you than just sex.”

Stiles couldn’t even really begin to guess just **how** much more, but Derek doesn’t bother to elaborate, they have time. As long as Stiles knows that he’s at least somewhat serious, chances are it’ll span long enough for him to explain.

Even though Stiles told Derek to say it, it’s still a little difficult to process the words correctly and he stares down at the older man with his mouth hanging open, “Wow,” He wets his dry lips then and fights the urge to ask why, because he doesn’t want to jinx it, “Okay.”


	3. The Day Before Valentine’s Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek prepares the loft for the night before Valentine's Day and then requests a few, minor things from Stiles before the night's over.

February, 13th, 2:24 pm

Derek’s been considering making a significant gesture to Stiles for some time now. He’d initially said that he wasn’t the kind of person to just **do** things for people, not without some specific prompt or reason, and that’s the truth, but things are different with Stiles. He’s been actually thinking about it, seriously, for three weeks now - and since Valentine’s day is literally around the corner, he figures that there’s no better time.

He decides to avoid the actual day itself, though, because he’d like Stiles to **know** he didn’t feel like he had to make a large, romantic gesture just because of the date alone (that doesn’t mean that he’s not doing something else, separately, for Stiles tomorrow, though).

It takes some convincing of Cora and Isaac to get them both out of the loft for the next two nights, but he manages, and then he actually commits to **cleaning** , which is easier said than done.

It isn’t too late in the day when he’s finished, and actually starts preparing the rest of it, sending Stiles a quick message before he eyes the fresh roses and boxes of candles warily.

 **To: stiles**  
youre not doing anything tonight are you?

 **To: Sour Wolf**  
hopefully you.

Derek starts with the larger candles first, setting them up as miscellaneously as possible, not bothering to light them just yet. He keeps his cell close, responding once he reads Stiles’s text back.

 **To: stiles**  
six is fine then?

 **To: Sour Wolf**  
scheduling our sex now? jk, i’ll be there.

 **To: stiles**  
right see you later

February, 13th, 5:57 am

Stiles isn’t even slightly ashamed that he counts down the hours until six o’clock, because this thing he has going on with Derek is good, and not just for him. He’s seen a difference in the werewolf as well, he’s still grumpy, sure, but not as often, and Stiles can’t help but feel like it’s all his doing, and that in turn makes him feel a little smug.

So, wanting to spend time with the werewolf is a given, especially when mind blowing orgasms are involved - not to mention the steadily growing feelings - but yeah, _orgasms_.

Stiles doesn’t knock anymore, because he knows Derek can hear him and smell him, so he slings the heavy metal door open, “Honey, I’m h-” He stops when he actually looks into the loft and his voice softens to where it’s just barely audible, “ _Home_ ,” He utters, eyes wide as he takes in the glow of the place.

Derek stands still, watching Stiles curiously for a moment before he smiles and motions for the younger man to take a seat at the table he’s set up, “Hey,” He says a little awkwardly, “Sit… Please?”

Stiles swallows down the lump in his throat and pries his eyes away from the sea of candles littered about, looking at the older man with a mixture of disbelief and affection in his expression, “Yeah, sure,” He says numbly and drops his bag by the steps before moving closer to pull one of the chairs out, then proceeds to sit down tentatively.

Derek moves to the seat beside Stiles, pulling it out and turning it so that he can better face the younger man. He probably should’ve thought of **exactly** what he wanted to say while he was setting up the place, but most of his concentration was squared on not starting a fire.

He settles for not really saying anything, and just reaching into his jacket pocket, taking out the small box and setting it on the table, slowly, pointedly pushing it towards Stiles.

Stiles lets out a tremulous breath and stares at the little box with wide eyes for a moment, hand moving to grip the edge of the table to keep himself from toppling over, because he’s starting to feel a little lightheaded.

Slowly, Stiles turns his head and looks at Derek, lump still in his throat, “W-What is all of this?” He asks, because he never thought in a million years that the werewolf would be the kind to go all out like this.

Derek lifts his brows and glances around, “I think it’s self explanatory,” He says and shrugs, looking back at Stiles again, “Open the box.”

Stiles continues to gape at Derek for a little longer before his gaze drifts back to the box, mouth closing finally as he forces his hands forward to grab it warily.

When he begins to open it, he holds his breath without even thinking and when his eyes fall upon the little silver key, he breathes out slowly, “A key,” He says, more to himself than anything, trying to understand what’s going on, so he looks back to Derek for an answer of some sort.

“I-I don’t-I don’t get it.”

“About four months ago I started looking for a place for the pack to move to,” Derek says carefully, “I hadn’t decided on one until about a week ago. I want you to move in with us.”

“Y-You-you…” Stiles stutters and continues to stare at the older man, his chest constricting tightly at the notion as his stomach flips excitedly.

He looks back at the key and runs the pad of his forefinger over the cool metal, fighting the urge to get all sentimental and emotional, “Really?” He asks finally, voice shaking.

Derek nods, reaching out to cover Stiles’s hand with his own, “Yeah,” He says, fingers gently caressing the back of the younger man’s hand, “Is that a ‘yes’?”

“It’s uh-yeah,” Stiles narrows his brows and snorts fondly after a moment, smiling slowly as he turns his hand to touch Derek’s in turn, “Definitely,” He nods and leans over to kiss the werewolf lovingly, his other hand touching Derek’s cheek for just a second before pulling back, “Yes, I’d like to be able to annoy you twenty-four seven.”

Derek tries to remain as passive as possible, only smirking slightly at the comment and staring at the younger man still, “It’s not just that, I hope you understand that.”

“Not just what?” Stiles asks and shakes his head slightly as he narrows his brows together, because he doesn’t entirely understand.

“It wouldn’t just be living together,” Derek elaborates, “We’d share a room, and a bed.” That’s probably obvious, but he wants to make sure that Stiles understands exactly what all he’s asking.

“Oh, well,” Stiles shrugs and grins weakly, “I’d kinda hope so. Otherwise you’d probably get tired of me sneaking into your bed every night.”

Derek nods and swallows nervously, narrowing his brows as he considers how to ask the **next** question, as if the first wasn’t more than enough, “I also want something else,” He wets his lips as he looks around, “All of this isn’t just for asking you to move into a house with me. I also want you as my mate.”

Stiles can’t help but feel like maybe there’s something he’s not understanding, or maybe he’s just not grasping the seriousness of the situation, but he thought being with Derek kind of went without saying, “Um, okay,” He says and squeezes the older man’s hand in his own, “Pretty sure I’ve been yours since Christmas, dude. Probably even before then, if you wanna get technical.”

“This is different,” Derek says as he takes a breath, “I want to knot you, I want to _mate_ you, Stiles.” He’s explained the significance before, the first time they had sex, so maybe Stiles now realizes the gravity of what he’s asking.

“Oh,” Stiles says dumbly and suddenly recalls past conversations with Derek, eyes widening a little when he realizes how serious all of this is, “ _Oh_ ,” He repeats again with recognition in his voice and nods as he stares at the werewolf, feeling both giddy at the idea and extremely, inexplicably nervous.

“Well,” He breathes out, “Can I ask you just like, one question first?”

Derek nods, shrugging, “Of course.”

Stiles turns a little in his seat to look at Derek a little better as he considers asking the older man how he feels about him again, but he remembers the werewolf telling him that he’s not a coward, so he breathes in deep and just fucking goes for it, “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Derek says at once, he could’ve easily said it a month ago, but figured that wasn’t the right time to divulge certain things.

“Wow,” Stiles says and his eyes widen, though he believes the older man without a doubt, “That’s so not the answer I was expecting, b-but I-” He pauses for a moment, “Okay,” He says suddenly, mind already made up, “That’s all I really wanted to know… You can-you can knot me, I’ll be your mate, if you want me.”

Derek’s tempted to ask just exactly **what** Stiles was expecting him to say, he’s not sure if he should be concerned that his intentions haven’t been clear enough, or if Stiles is just trying to come off humble, “That’s what **I** want, what do **you** want?”

“To be with you,” Stiles answers without hesitating and it’s quite simply the easiest truth he’s ever told.

Derek grins slowly and searches the younger man’s face before leaning in and kissing him, his fingers brushing Stiles’s sweated palm as his other hand reaches up and grabs the back of the boy’s neck, their knees sliding passed one another’s as he shifts closer to Stiles on his seat.

Stiles returns Derek’s grin with one of his own and reaches up to rest his palms on either side of the werewolf’s neck, kissing him somewhat excitedly, “Shit, wait,” He says and pulls back, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

Pulling up the camera on it, he smiles wide at the older man, “I have to take a picture of all of this, otherwise no one’s gonna believe me when I tell them.” He snaps a picture of the key in the little box, then stands up and moves back to get a good shot of the loft before Derek can snag his phone away.

Derek rolls his eyes and waits patiently, not even bothering to stop Stiles. He doesn’t particularly mind, Stiles can show just about anything to their pack, they’re all aware that he’s different when Stiles is concerned, “Are you done?”

“Hold on,” Stiles says and grins as he attaches the pictures and sends out a mass text to the pack saying, ‘ _about to tie the knot_ ’. Derek’s going to kill him when he finds out, likely… Maybe, or maybe not. Either way, the werewolf probably won’t be amused, but it’s precisely the kind of thing he’s signing himself up for by wanting to mate with Stiles.

After pocketing the phone, he moves to the table once more and sits back down, “So, is the table all for show, or did you make dinner?”

“Afterwards,” Derek says, watching Stiles warily but then reaching out to grab the younger man and pull him into his lap, “Once we’re knotted.”

“Anxious?” Stiles asks and wraps his arms around Derek’s neck, shifting and rolling his hips down teasingly.

“Yes,” Derek says honestly, “But that’s not the only reason we’re eating afterwards. It’s tradition, and the reason behind that is **probably** because you’ll be starving.”

“The sex is gonna be so good we’re gonna work up an appetite?” Stiles asks cynically and scratches his fingertips against the back of Derek’s scalp, “I’ll take your word for it, big guy.”

Derek leans in to press short, breathy kisses along Stiles’s jawline, “Like you won’t find out shortly,” He reaches down, pushing off Stiles’s shoes and then standing up, walking around to the bed, stepping over the petals on the ground as he stares into Stiles’s eyes.

He carefully lays the boy down on the bed, climbing atop him and kissing the younger man as his hand slides under Stiles’s shirt, pushing it up and off before carefully setting it on the floor by the bed.

Stiles ignores the way his breath hitches in his throat when he looks up at Derek and kisses back slowly, his own hands grabbing at the fabric of the werewolf’s shirt impatiently, “The fact that you’re a closet romantic brings me infinite joy, just so you know.”

“I’m not a closet romantic,” Derek responds before he can stop himself, closing his mouth afterwards and raising a brow at Stiles.

He barely even understands the term, granted they’re surrounded by candles and roses, but both of those things seem to be common, as far as he’s known.

Hopeless romantics probably come up with things that are more original and less expected. He lifts Stiles’s arms up, tying his wrists with a strap of leather to the headboard and wetting his lips as he watches the younger man.

Stiles is about to argue the fact, but he’s distracted by the soft, yet cool feel of something around his wrists and he glances up, “Uh,” He looks back at Derek and furrows his brows, “Any particular reason you’re tying me up? There’s not like, some kind of morbid ritual where you have to like, eat a kidney or something before you knot me, is there?”

“No, there isn’t,” Derek says as he unbuttons Stiles’s jeans and glances occasionally up at him as he unzips the pants and tugs them down the younger man’s thighs, “It’s just a part of it,” He leans up, pressing his lips to Stiles’s right ear as his hands spread the boy’s legs, “While breeding, we can get rough, it’s just better I know where your arms are.”

“Right,” Stiles says slowly and rolls his tongue between his lips to wet them, “No touching, that’s… Seriously unfortunate, but it’s cool-when you say breeding, you totally mean knotting, right? Do I need to worry about magical werewolf sperm?”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek says in a low voice, narrowing his brows at the boy, “That’s not a concern.”

He can’t really say Stiles has asked a more unusual question before, and while half of him wants to laugh, the other half is concerned that maybe Stiles hit his head at some point during the day and didn’t mention it to him, “Breeding, knotting, mating, it’s all general the first time.”

“Are you gonna wolf out on me or something?” Stiles asks then, both equally aroused and frightened as he watches the werewolf tentatively, pulling a little and testing his restraints.

“It’s not unheard of,” Derek responds, “I’ve never done this before, so I’d think it’s possible.” He sits back on his heels and removes his own shirt, eyes running over Stiles’s body as he leans back down to check his wrists, “I’ll untie you once you’re knotted, or if I think I can control myself - it’s just a precaution.”

“I-I’m a little rusty on the details,” Stiles starts talking out of nervousness and he hopes that Derek knows this is how he is, “So, I’m uh-I’m thinking maybe you should refresh my memory real quick. The mating thing is serious, yeah, and I get that, but like, do werewolves mate once and only once or are they prone to finding new mates after a long period of time, or...?”

“That depends on a lot of things,” Derek starts to explain carefully as he takes off his pants, “A werewolf could mate multiple times, and have more than one mate, if they wanted. But how often to humans marry multiple partners? It’s kind of the same thing, only… More invasive, more permanent, you can’t undo it. And you don’t just _leave_ your mate and find a ‘better’ one, that’s not how it works at all.”

Stiles tries to concentrate more on Derek’s legs when the older man pushes his pants off in order to keep himself calm, “Werewolves can h-have more than one mate, if they want,” He repeats the older man’s words as his eyes flit up to meet Derek’s.

“Do you?” He asks, “Want more than one? More than me, I mean,” He adds on.

Derek leans back over Stiles and stares him solidly in the eyes, “Technically, you’re not my mate, yet,” He says and pushes Stiles’s boxers down, “It’s not my intent to have **more** than you. Why do you keep assuming that you’re insufficient? Or unsatisfactory? Or that I might not want you?”

“Why?” Stiles repeats incredulously and stares up at Derek, “You’re not blind, Derek. I mean, there’s me and then there’s **you** and-and you’re…” He sighs and shakes his head, “You’re stupidly gorgeous, you could literally have just about anyone in the world you want and you’re about to mate me. The same person who annoys the hell out of you most of the time, it’s just-the logic doesn’t make any sense to me, is all.”

“I’m not settling,” Derek says firmly as he lifts Stiles’s left leg and tugs the boxers off carefully, “I’ve wanted you for years, it’s just been a matter of encouragement.”

He won’t be able to explain it to Stiles, he’s sure the boy wouldn’t understand, or be able to see it from **his** point of view, and there are far too many words that would have to be said in order to even try, “I’m not blind, I just see things differently.”

“You wha-” Stiles stops and contemplates Derek’s words, trying to process the fact that they’ve both wanted one another for longer than what they’d thought, “Why didn’t you-I mean, you waited for me to make the first move?” He asks then, because he doesn’t understand why the older man wouldn’t have done something.

“Yes,” Derek says and shrugs, “I probably would’ve, eventually, but I waited for you to, just in case you changed your mind, or weren’t interested in the first place.”

He’s revealing a lot more about himself than he’d initially intended, but considering what they’re about to do, Stiles should probably know these things, “I was beginning to wonder if you were **settling** for me, or if it was just sex.”

“The sex is definitely a perk, don’t get me wrong,” Stiles says and spreads his legs a little for Derek, “But it’s never been strictly about the sex. I use to fantasize being in a relationship with you, you know, getting to know you, being close to you. I want the domesticity, the familiarity with one another.”

Derek listens to Stiles as intently as possible, staring at the boy and smiling slightly. He’s not going to question it, even though he wants to ask Stiles why he’d be interested in someone as broken and reserved as himself, Stiles wants what he wants, and if it’s Derek, then he’s not going to push for a reason.

“It’s a perk,” He agrees, removing his own tight boxer briefs and pressing their bodies together.

Stiles groans weakly when Derek presses closer, the warmth of the older man’s skin seeping into him, “I’d totally have my hands all over you right now if I could.”

“Soon enough,” Derek says as he reaches between them and grasps Stiles’s cock firmly, “It’s probably difficult for someone like you, that likes **touching** everything, but it’s in your best interest. I don’t know how I’ll be, and the last thing we want happening is one of those hands of yours to suddenly be missing.”

Stiles eyes flutter closed and he gasps at the hand around his length, “Yeah, no-no missing limbs, kinda like my hands right… Right where they- _oh God_ ,” He groans, then lifts his hips up eagerly.

Derek stares at Stiles, his nose rested against the younger man’s temple as he quickly works the length in his fist, “Go ahead,” He says encouragingly, his other hand moving down Stiles’s waist and around to his back side, lifting him up a little as his fingers press between the younger man’s ass cheeks.

“Derek,” Stiles utters out and his length pulses excitedly when he feels the werewolf’s other hand, anticipating the thick, mind numbing spread of Derek’s fingers as he ruts up, unashamed of his desperation for his soon to be mate.

It’s strange how the sound of Stiles’s voice saying his name causes Derek’s entire body to tense and relax at the **same** time, how the way the boy says it causes his cock to throb and his teeth to clench.

He presses a finger into Stiles carefully, and though the younger man is expecting it, and isn’t tensed up and unwilling, it’s still rough without lubrication, no matter how many times he’s done this. He kind of likes the pull, though, the boy arching his hips upward into Derek’s other hand as the leather strap is drawn taut.

Stiles stays relaxed and squeezes his eyes shut, hands balling into fists as he works his hips up and down, desperate for the firm hand around his cock, but just as eager to get Derek’s finger deeper inside of him. He could probably come just from that, just from the werewolf fingering him and eventually, it’s a theory he wants to try, but for now he gives himself over to the sensation of the simultaneous ministrations.

Derek pulls his fingers back for a moment, lifting his arm and pressing the tips of them against the boy’s lips before shoving them in, his other hand moving faster, the sure, firm strokes timed with the rise and fall of Stiles’s hips.

Stiles lets out some kind of half aborted moan when Derek speeds up and sucks on the fingers provided, able to taste his own musk lingering on the older man’s fingers. He runs his tongue against the digits, then slides it between, trying to make sure the next time the werewolf presses his fingers in, they go a little more smoothly.

Derek pulls his hand back, reaching down once more and sliding both in together, the give immediate and even **he** groans at it - the heat around his fingers clutching, the uneven moves of Stiles’s hips and Derek lifts one knee to rest it on the younger man’s thigh to keep him still.

His fingers press into Stiles more as his hand is flattened between the boy’s backside and the mattress below, but he curls them inside of Stiles, working them in and out the best he can.

Stiles stares intently at Derek and it’s ridiculous how debauched he feels already, and they haven’t even really started yet, “Der- **ah** ,” He winces, but not in pain. It’s more because of the fact that he feels like he’s getting close already and he wants so badly to buck up into Derek’s fist.

“Please,” He breathes out and looks down his body, eyes flitting back up to meet the werewolf’s after a moment, “I’m close, d-don’t-fuck, **so** close.”

Derek stops almost at once, able to smell just how close Stiles is, and he moves down, the fingers inside of Stiles shifting and turning a little as he grabs the boy’s hip and flips their positions carefully, the leather straps twisting as Derek lays down below Stiles.

He glances up, lifting his chin and feeling the head of the boy’s cock brush his lips. He can’t actually name how many times Stiles has let him do this, and he’s wanted to return the favor since the **first** time. He settles the younger man’s knees firmly on the mattress and opens his mouth, relaxing his body as he waits for Stiles, the fingers inside of him stroking carefully over his prostate.

Stiles splutters a little when he realizes what Derek wants him to do, but there’s no way in hell he’s passing an opportunity like this up, “Hope you fully understand how q-quick this is gonna be,” He gasps when he feels the fingers hit his prostate, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine as he rolls his hips forward, dragging the length of his cock across Derek’s lips before pushing it into his mouth, “Oh God.”

He relies more on the leather restraints than he’s comfortable with, but the older man positioned his knees nicely enough so that he doesn’t slide too much as he begins fucking himself into the werewolf’s mouth in earnest, nonsensical sounds spilling from his mouth with every drag of Derek’s tongue against the head of his dick.

Derek rubs his fingers over the bundle of nerves, his chest rising and falling carefully as he concentrates on breathing in time when he gets the opportunity, having watched Stiles more than enough to get the general idea. His other hand smooths up Stiles’s thigh a bit blindly, palm caressing the swell of the boy’s ass and, on a particular thrust of the boy’s hips, he smacks Stiles’s left ass cheek and all but growls around the younger man’s cock.

Stiles yelps in surprise when he feels Derek’s hand connect, the slight sting making his entire body thrum and his eyes widen a little, because-“I’m come-coming, Derek, fuck.” He grunts and closes his eyes as his orgasm rolls through him, he knew he was close, but this is just kind of ridiculous. Then again, he and stamina don’t really go hand in hand.

The werewolf swallows quickly before moving from under Stiles, hands retreating from what they’re doing as he turns and pulls the younger man’s knees out from under him, laying his stomach flat on the bed as he reaches out to the small nightstand, opening the drawer and procuring the bottle of lube from inside.

He settles his knees on either side of Stiles’s waist, his feet resting on the mattress between the younger man’s legs as he leans down, whispering into Stiles’s ear as he warms the lubricant between his palms, “Are you relaxed?”

“Feeling pretty lax,” Stiles responds breathlessly and tries to nuzzle against the lips pressing against his ear, needing all the contact he can get, because he always feels especially clingy after he gets off, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Derek says as he starts carefully working his fingers into Stiles, starting with the first two of each hand, “I might shift,” He leans down to press his lips to Stiles’s shoulder, “Just… Don’t be surprised if that happens.”

“I trust you,” Stiles informs him softly and winces a little at the stretch of Derek’s fingers, willing himself to stay calm with deep breaths.

Derek smiles at the boy’s words, pressing more kisses over Stiles’s skin as he works the third finger in, watching the younger man’s body carefully for any sign of tension or discomfort.

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles says in a strained breath and tries to remind himself that it’s so going to be worth it, the dull ache will be nothing but a constant reminder of the fact that he does and will always belong to the werewolf, “Easy.”

Derek leans up to mouth the back of the boy’s neck, fingers carefully moving in and out of Stiles as he chuckles, “I **am** being easy, just relax, this is nothing.”

“I’m trying,” Stiles utters lowly and makes the mistake of pushing his hips back a little, and all of the werewolf’s fingers go deeper, leaving him hissing out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, “Fuck.”

Derek’s mouth dries as he watches Stiles and a low growl sounds in his chest as he shakes, his cock throbbing in interest, “ **Careful** , Stiles,” He says firmly.

“Why?” Stiles asks and buries a smug smile into the crook of his arm, tempting the older man again and grunting as he rocks back on the fingers, “Does it make your wolf wanna come out and play?”

“Stiles,” Derek groans and his eyes flash, fingers spreading inside of the boy as he presses his lips to Stiles’s ear, “I’m not playing, **don’t** push.”

“Fine,” Stiles grits out, but cants his hips back once more before stopping, groaning almost miserably as he twists his hands and holds onto the leather binding his wrists.

Derek pulls his hands away finally and presses the head of his length against the boy’s slick entrance. The more he waits, the more impatient he’s getting, and Stiles isn’t really helping. He rolls his hips down, pushing in down to the knot, gasping against the younger man’s neck as he pulls Stiles’s hips up a little, moving slowly at first; agonizingly slowly.

As much as Stiles loves Derek’s fingers, they don’t really hold a flame to the werewolf’s dick. If it weren’t too creepy and if he knew beyond all doubt that the older man would never find it, he’d totally build a shrine to the motherfucker, because it’s just that _nice_.

Whining throatily, Stiles glances back over his shoulder, “Move, **faster**.”

“Not yet,” Derek says as he carefully thrusts back in, rocking his hips and pushing his knot against Stiles’s ass as he reaches down to spread the boy’s cheeks. He probably should’ve prepared Stiles more, or shoved his knot in before, at some point, just to get him use to it, but he’s never done it before and he’s been worried that if he even tried, he wouldn’t want to take it back out.

“Derek,” Stiles complains and inhales deeply before pushing himself back, testing his rim on Derek’s knot, “Fucking **move** , I’m not made of porcelain.”

Derek growls loud and snaps his jaw by Stiles’s ear, moving suddenly as he rests his chest against the younger man’s shoulder blades, moving a couple times in quick, sharp thrusts before pushing his knot in as far as he  can and then pulling back again.

“O-Oh my fuck-sweet baby Jesus,” Stiles mumbles out quickly and his eyes widen at the stretch, the fucking ache making it hard for him to think, to concentrate on anything else aside from what feels like a damn bowling ball pressing into him.

“S-Stiles,” Derek breathes as he thrusts quicker, knees shifting on the bed as he feels what little control he has slipping. His knot’s **almost** able to pass, and as he moves, he starts growling, low at first until it’s constant and his claws grow out and fur spreads over his cheeks.

“Derek,” Stiles responds in a grunt and he wants to tell the older man he needs more attention, needs the werewolf’s lips pressed to his skin to keep him distracted from the pain, but when he feels the sharp prick of Derek’s claws against his skin, he figures it’s _point_ less.

Derek moves his hands up numbly, his palms running up Stiles’s sides, up his arms - wanting the feeling of the younger man’s fingers, arms around him, hands in his hair.

He can’t even remember why he strapped Stiles down in the first place, so he grabs the leather and yanks at it, ripping the cord in half and sitting back, turning Stiles over and pulling the boy into his lap as he guides Stiles’s hips down.

The alpha drops one hand to the younger man’s cock, minding his claws as he starts pumping the flesh, staring up into Stiles’s eyes, “Move,” He says.

Stiles is so insanely thankful for regaining the use of his hands, but he’s also kind of awe stricken as he stares down at Derek, and he decides that this is most definitely preferable over staring at the pillows. It even helps distract him a little from the burn of the stretch, being able to actually **look** at Derek while all of this is going on.

He hears the command and blinks slowly at first, but then wraps his arms greedily around the werewolf’s neck and does what he’s told, lifting himself up slightly before sinking back down onto the older man’s length.

Derek watches Stiles curiously, one hand on his waist moving up his torso as the werewolf leans up a little to drag his tongue along the boy’s neck, his sharp teeth brushing Stiles’s skin. He crosses his legs, rolling his thumb over the head of the boy’s cock as he tugs at the flesh.

Stiles whimpers a little and feels his cock twitch feebly at first, Derek’s hand firm and sure, steadily getting him hard again and, with more than one distraction, the insistent press of the werewolf’s knot isn’t so bad. He grabs at the back of Derek’s hair and pulls his head back, staring into his eyes for a moment before kissing him tentatively, mindful of the elongated canines.

Derek kisses back the best he can, tongue flicking out and tasting Stiles’s lips as he wraps his arms around the younger man, shifting Stiles down against his knot and smearing their bodies together, feeling the shape of the boy’s cock against him.

He presses his nose to Stiles’s neck, scenting him and closing his eyes as he shudders, his knot almost pushing in completely, but he guides Stiles’s hips back up.

Stiles holds on to Derek just as tightly as the older man is holding him, blunt fingernails digging into the werewolf’s shoulders as his legs tremble and he shoves his hips back down.

“Do it,” He encourages weakly, gasping when he feels his hole stretching over the wide girth, “Knot me, Derek. Just do it.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek manages out as he shakes his head, “ _Not yet._ ”

He reaches down, feeling the knot pressing against Stiles’s backside and his other hand drops behind him, planting itself on the mattress so that he can arch his hips up, his eyes flashing even more, the hair on his cheeks growing out as he whines in the back of his throat.

“Come on,” Stiles begs and tries forcing himself down onto the knot himself, one hand sliding from Derek’s shoulder down to his chest, “ **Please** , I want it... Need you to.”

Derek growls and shifts again completely, fur sprouting out all over his body as the length inside of Stiles thickens even more, his neck growing, shoulders broadening and he leans down to the younger man to lick at his cheek.

Stiles’s eyes widen in momentary fear, because when Derek said he’d probably shift, he’d totally assumed that it’d be the form he’s most familiar with.

But the sudden growth of the werewolf’s cock inside of him makes him cry out in pain, bringing him from his thoughts, hands instinctively moving to clutch at the fur for support as his eyes sting with tears. It fucking hurts, probably more than he ever anticipated, and part of him is worried that he’s going to be ripped in two, but he clenches his jaw and stares at the werewolf with a glint of determination in his eyes.

Derek brushes his wet nose against Stiles’s skin as he leans down even more, tongue darting out, tasting the beads of pre-come at the tip of Stiles’s cock as his claws grab the younger man’s hips, his legs uncrossing and stretching out on the bed, toes flexing as his tail wags. He licks his teeth, sniffing at Stiles’s length before lapping at it and whining.

“It’s too much,” Stiles breathes out tightly and reaches up to bury his fingers in the fur behind Derek’s ears, the sensory overload causing his tears to fall freely down his cheeks now, “I’m too sensitive, just…” He presses his forehead to the side of the werewolf’s muzzle for a moment, “Just focus on knotting me, okay, big guy?”

Derek moves back, climbing off the side of the bed with Stiles and turning the boy onto his stomach once more, their feet on the floor as he pushes his slick length back in, claws curling into the sheets as he licks Stiles’s cheek, tasting the tears as he starts moving once more.

Stiles grunts and fights the urge to sob every time Derek shoves in - the only silver lining, oddly enough, is the werewolf’s lupine tongue against his skin. It feels nice, warm and wet, but not too hot, a little cool in contrast to his own skin right now.

He twists a little and clutches at the fur, eyelids fluttering lazily as he focuses on the soft scratch of Derek’s tongue, trying to forget about the pain radiating in his lower half.

Derek whines incessantly, claws cutting through the mattress and curling into the wooden frame as he continues to move. His hips thrust quickly, shorter distances as his knot presses it’s way back into Stiles, the werewolf’s whines growing louder, until he’s whimpering and yelping with every thrust, his body shaking.

His feet move on the ground for a good stance before flexing his toes and digging the claws on them into the floor. He mounts Stiles completely then, fur pressed to the warm, sweated skin as his tongue licks over the boy’s lips and into his mouth.

Stiles isn’t even sure how to kiss back like this, so he just opens his mouth for Derek, occasionally running his tongue against the canines. He furrows his brows and tugs on the werewolf’s fur, eyes welling up with more tears as his chest heaves almost painfully, leaving him lightheaded and a little woozy.

Derek pulls back slightly, feeling the tears again and he licks at them once more, his claws moving from the wooden frame, reaching up to cup Stiles’s cheek as he starts drawing in the boy’s pain, sniffing at Stiles’s neck and mouth as he continues moving frantically.

Stiles feels the pain lift gradually and he’s confused at first, until he remembers that apparently that’s a thing werewolves can do, then proceeds to wonder why the fuck Derek didn’t do it sooner.

“ **Oh** ,” He gasps out, because where the pain once thrummed through out him, it’s replaced by this low grade, burning _pleasure_ , “ _T-That’s_ … _Better_ ,” He utters weakly, and although he feels exhausted, he grins at the way Derek’s sniffing at him.

Derek growls low at the sudden strong scent of arousal from the boy under him and he moves quicker, mouth dropping open, tongue lolling out as he pants and whimpers.

His knot finally pushes into Stiles completely and the werewolf stills, his entire body shuddering as he comes and his left hand - claws still in the frame of the bed - wrenches and tears the wood into pieces as he runs his wet tongue up the side of Stiles’s face.

“Oh my God,” Stiles moans, eyes wide as he watches the wood practically crumble under Derek’s strength and it’s amazing, really, that he’s actually still in one piece.

“Oh my God,” He says again, belatedly realizing that they are, in fact, now knotted; they’re **mates**.

Derek moves numbly, holding Stiles close as he climbs back onto the bed, curling around the boy’s body as he lazily licks Stiles’s neck. He huffs and shifts his feet, pushing a bunch of petals off the side of the bed. His arm moves down between the younger man’s legs, brushing Stiles’s length curiously.

Stiles lets out a small, content sigh and arches his neck for Derek, feeling oddly at ease with this whole… _Bestiality_ thing, if that’s even what it’s considered.

He jerks a little when he feels the graze of the older man’s arm against his length and he’s about to oppose, because he remembers how sensitive and painful it had been before, but it almost takes his breath away with how **good** it feels and it elicits a sharp, surprised whimper.

The alpha licks at Stiles’s bared neck, his claws curling carefully around the younger man’s length as his other arm wraps around Stiles’s waist as well, caressing his stomach and chest lovingly as his tail wags, ears pushing back against his head as he closes his eyes.

It’s overwhelming with how quickly the sensation escalates into something _more_ , but Stiles doesn’t question it, doesn’t fight the way he feels his muscles tensing, orgasm building.

He reaches up to the clawed hand on his stomach and traces the sharpness of each one, knowing how much power lays just under Derek’s surface and knowing that the older man could easily gut him if he wanted to, but he grins and bucks into the grip as well as he can, because he **also** knows by the affectionate touches and the things Derek does for him, that he’d never hurt him.

Derek moves, knot shifting inside of Stiles as he leans down to lick at the boy’s length once more, now that he seems receptive. He feels his fur sticking to Stiles’s backside, the red, flushed skin glowing against his black fur.

Stiles gasps at the obscene sensation and when he looks down, he completely fucking loses it and comes, rim clenching down around the knot inside of him and he expects it to be painful, but if anything, it’s only mildly uncomfortable, “Fuck,” He drawls out, eyes heavy lidded as he stares at Derek, feeling utterly exhausted.

Derek laps at the fluid, laying back finally and curling against Stiles once more, legs and arms wrapped around his mate protectively, his tail brushing suddenly between the younger man’s legs as he nuzzles against Stiles’s neck and closes his eyes.

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  



	4. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek wakes up to observe the state of his new mate and, though he can’t remember much at first, he knows that he must have gotten a little too rough the night before.

February, 14th, 6:12 am

Derek opens his eyes, lifting his head from Stiles’s neck and looking around in confusion for a minute before laying back down and squeezing his mate close. He doesn’t particularly remember **much** from the night before, which was anticipated, but the smell of sex and seed and sweat is more than enough to tell him everything went through as he’d planned.

He turns to lick and kiss Stiles’s skin for a moment before his eyes focus on the headboard, to the torn strap of leather hanging from where he’d had Stiles tied up. He frowns, checking the boy’s wrists and realizing that the **other** half is removed as well.

Derek sits up again and blinks in surprise when he sees the state of his bed frame. He carefully slides off the side, planting his feet on the ground and standing up to look at the claw marks on the wood.

The alpha looks at Stiles, the boy still sleeping peacefully and Derek reaches out to turn him over enough to observe his backside for marks or bites. And while there are a few bruises, and he can smell the slight tinge of blood, Stiles seems otherwise fine. He scratches his stubble as he stands back up and moves to grab his clothes, dressing in the ones from the day before and walking into the kitchen.

He hadn’t planned much for Valentine’s Day in general, considering he wasn’t normally one to make big gestures just because of holidays, but after last night he figures Stiles deserves breakfast in bed.

He cooks quietly, preparing the younger man’s plate and pouring a glass of milk before walking back out into the main room, plate and cup in hand, setting them on the table before moving to the bed and laying down behind Stiles, pulling the boy into his arms and pressing soft kisses to his neck, scratching his mate’s skin with his stubble.

“ _Stiles_ ,” He says softly.

“T _ick_ les,” Stiles slurs sleepily and sucks in a dribble of spit spilling from the corner of his mouth, blinking at the harsh light of the sunrise as he turns and winces before grinning at Derek, “God, you’re so handsome,” He sighs, and knows he’s probably only waxing poetic about his mate because he still feels drowsy as fuck, “And you’re mine, mine, mine, mine.”

Derek smiles and kisses Stiles, tasting the boy’s warm breath and running his tongue over Stiles’s bottom lip as he holds the younger man even closer, “Are you hungry?” He probably would’ve said something else first, but he’s more than aware how quickly eggs get cold.

“I feel like I haven’t eaten in a month,” Stiles says honestly and swallows, grimacing at how scratchy his throat is as he lifts a hand to touch Derek’s chest.

“My memory’s kind of fuzzy, but from the state of the food in the oven, I’m assuming we skipped dinner,” Derek responds, kissing Stiles one more time before pulling back, “So I made you breakfast. Don’t move,” He says as he moves to the table, grabbing the plate and joining Stiles on the bed again, carefully handing it over and then offering the drink as well.

Stiles blinks in confusion for a moment, because this is another gesture in a long list of things he never anticipated from Derek, but fuck if it isn’t nice.

Smiling slowly, he takes the milk and chugs about half of it before handing it back to the older man, “Can you sit it on the floor or something? I’d move, but I’m pretty sure I’d like, spontaneously combust.”

Derek settles for holding the drink himself, watching Stiles and smiling slightly in contentment as he listens to his mate’s heart beats, “How… **Was** I… Last night?”

Stiles stays on his side, not bothering to move as he picks at the food on his plate, smashing his eggs up the way his mom used to when he was little, “Dude, are you seriously trying to get me to boost your ego or something?”

Derek lifts a brow, “No,” He says honestly, “I don’t really remember anything. I remember telling you about mating, strapping you down and getting undressed…”

“You don’t remember?” Stiles asks incredulously, but in all honesty, this could be a good thing, because he doesn’t really want to explain how he spent most of it in agony. He knows how Derek handles guilt and he doesn’t want to be the reason for any unnecessary pouting.

“It was…” He focuses on the last part, when things actually started feeling good, because this way he doesn’t have to lie, “Good. _Amazing_ , actually.”

“Good,” Derek responds mindlessly, because while he doesn’t actually remember it all, small slivers are already coming back to him, and he’ll eventually remember everything, from what Peter’s told him time and time again, “I shifted completely? Into alpha form?”

“Yep,” Stiles says and all but shovels the eggs into his mouth, chewing and swallowing before raising his brows at Derek, “Tail and everything.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something and then glances back at the broken frame of the bed for a moment before looking back at Stiles, “I’ve never shifted into that form before,” He says slowly, reaching up to run his fingers through his beard again, not bothering to mention that he didn’t even know he **could**.

Stiles’s fork stills against his plate and he looks up at Derek skeptically, “Oh,” He says, because he isn’t really sure what to say. He’s pretty sure ‘Hey, your dick and your knot swelled up to about three times their original sizes and I thought I was gonna die’ isn’t something he can really blurt out.

“Well,” He snorts and smiles to himself, “You’re definitely fond of both licking and sniffing in your alpha form, that’s for sure.”

“And you didn’t mind that..?” Derek asks and stops because he realizes he’s about to ask if Stiles minds if he’s a werewolf, which is probably a dumb thing to ask, “That form? It’s… It isn’t really human.”

Stiles’s eyes dart up to meet Derek’s for a moment as he considers the words, “I get that you look human, most of the time, but I also know that you’re **not**. And it’s-it’s not something that really bothers me, otherwise I wouldn’t be your mate right now.”

Derek smiles and leans in to press a quick kiss to the boy’s lips as he shifts closer, “I’m **not** human, you’re right,” He says pensively, “I don’t remember a thing from last night and I could’ve killed you. I don’t even see how I managed to keep you in one piece, judging by the state of my bed, you should be carved into ribbons.”

Stiles wants to mention that he’s surprised as well, that Derek didn’t break him in half, but he opts for shrugging instead, “Should be,” He agrees, trying to be vague about it, “But I’m not, so that should speak volumes about your self control.”

“I ripped the leather strap I had you tied up with in half, carved holes into my mattress, and tore open the right side of my bed frame,” Derek says flatly, “So much for 'self control'. How do you feel right now? Are you in any pain?”

“Would you just stop with the twenty-one questions?” Stiles asks then, trying to deflect from having to answer and, as long as he doesn’t make any rash movements, he should be good.

“I’m fine,” He says, but only after he convinces himself of it, hoping it doesn’t come out sounding like a lie.

“No, you’re not,” Derek responds and reaches out to touch Stiles’s arm, grabbing him firmly and drawing as much pain from the boy as he can, “I’m your mate, **don’t** lie to me, Stiles.”

Stiles swats at Derek’s hand and levels him with a stubborn glare, “Stop it, I can handle a little bit of pain,” He insists, “And for the record, I wasn’t technically lying to you. I was just… Withholding the entire truth, there’s a difference.”

“Willingly withholding the truth when you’re trying to keep certain things from people **is** lying,” Derek says back, “Your father is the sheriff, you should be well aware of that. And since you can’t tell me everything, or since you think it’s bad enough to lie about, we probably shouldn’t do it again.”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to do your guilt ridden broody thing you tend to do,” Stiles says all in one breath, “Things have been good, things **are** good. I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Derek takes Stiles’s plate and sets it aside with the glass of milk, placing the latter carefully on the ground by the bed before he moves close to Stiles, scooping the boy into his arms and staring into his eyes, “Ruining it would be not telling me that I hurt you, pretending like you’re fine, that everything was ‘amazing, actually’, when it wasn’t.”

“So I inadvertently ruined our whole post-mating glow by trying **not** to ruin it, that’s just-that’s fucking golden,” Stiles says and frowns at Derek, “You want the truth?” He asks and looks at the older man seriously then.

“I think I can ascertain the truth from what you’ve already said,” Derek says and reaches up to cup Stiles’s cheek, “I’m starting to remember some of it. I’m sorry I hurt you."

"I… Thought I had more control than that. It probably would’ve been fine if I hadn’t shifted into my alpha form, I didn’t anticipate that. That’s on me, now will you stop pouting, and assuming you did something wrong? You haven’t ruined anything, just don’t lie about something serious like this, okay?”

Stiles sighs quietly and stares at Derek defeatedly, shoulders slumping a little as he smooths his hands against the other man’s neck, “Okay,” He concedes, because he doesn’t want things any more blown out of proportion than they already are. He wants to enjoy this, enjoy his time with Derek and revel in the surrealness of the situation, “My ass is so out of commission for like, the next week or so, though.”

Derek brushes his thumb along the skin just under Stiles’s right eye, leaning in and kissing just by his hand, drawing more of the pain away, “Next time I tell you not to push things, maybe you’ll actually  listen to me.”

“Now isn’t the time for blame,” Stiles raises his brows and breathes in sharply when he feels the pain ebbing away slowly, “It’s Valentine’s Day, it’s time for kisses and hugs and a litany of ‘I love you’s’, or maybe even just an affectionate ‘I tolerate you’.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Derek responds, laying Stiles back and pressing short, quick kisses down the younger man’s neck, “What do you wanna do? What are you in the mood for?”

“Mm,” Stiles hums thoughtfully and smiles at the tickle of Derek’s scruff as he arches his neck a little more, “I wanna stay in all day and do nothing with you,” He says, reaching up to play with the older man’s dark hair, “Lay in bed, the couch, maybe shower together and catch a cheesy chick flick on tv.”

Derek smooths his hands down Stiles’s body, pulling his thighs up and then rolling over, settling the younger man atop him, “If that’s what you want,” He says, though he’d had something else in mind, he’s also aware that Stiles probably **shouldn’t** be walking around too much today.

Stiles draws his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment, then releases it as he trails the pad of his forefinger down Derek’s chest, “What do **you** want?” He asks curiously, because this isn’t strictly about him.

“To avoid watching a romance flick at **all** costs,” Derek says somewhat sarcastically, smiling at Stiles and shrugging, “But you need your rest, we can stay in.”

“I’m rested,” Stiles argues weakly and leans down to pepper kisses all over Derek’s face, expecting the older man to grimace and push him away, “And If I hurt too bad, I’ve got you to ease my pain… So, what do you wanna do?”

Derek runs his hand up Stiles’s stomach, fingers scratching along the younger man’s happy trail, “I kind of had something in mind for us today…”

Stiles pulls back enough to level the older man with expectant brows before dipping back down, mouth insistent along Derek’s jaw and throat, “I’m not asking a third time.”

Derek swallows before letting out a slow breath, “Like I’d tell you, instead of just showing you. But if you wanna stay in, we can do that too.”

“No,” Stiles says almost at once, voice muffled by Derek’s skin as he nips and grazes his teeth against the werewolf’s adam’s apple, “If you had something in mind, that’s what I want, whatever it is.”

“You might change your mind about that, once you get out of bed and start walking around,” Derek says as he smiles slightly, “If I’d been in this form last night, I’d still want you to stay in bed… I don’t remember every last thing from shifting, but I know I got _bigger_.”

“Dammit, Derek,” Stiles sits up then and looks down at him for a moment, wincing slightly as he dismounts himself from the older man’s lap to move from the bed. He stands and grimaces with his back to Derek, and it fucking hurts, it does, but he’s not about to let it ruin his first meaningful Valentine’s Day ever.

Stiles turns around to look at the werewolf, propping his hands on his bare hips, “Okay, so, it hurts like a bitch, but this is totally the part where you come over here and take some more of my pain away. I wanna do whatever it is you had in mind.”

Derek sighs in annoyance, moving to the edge of the bed and taking Stiles’s right hand, lacing their fingers together to draw away the pain as he tugs the boy back to him, “Alright, you’ve made your point,” He stares up at Stiles, pressing his lips to the younger man’s chest, “We’ll go, soon, but you have to come back here and lay down so I can check just **how** bad the damage is.”

“You wanna examine me?” Stiles asks with a wry smile and reaches up to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, tugging the older man’s head back playfully as he dips down to kiss him on the lips.

“ _Kinky_ ,” He says softly, then moves to get back on the bed, all but flopping to his back, “I’m ready, Doc.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, rolling his eyes as he looks at the boy and licks his lips before glancing over the bruises on Stiles’s skin. He reaches out, touching the ones on his mate’s hips, “Turn **over**.”

Stiles raises a brow at the demand, but does so anyways, grunting softly as he shifts and pulls one of the pillows to his chest as he offers his backside to Derek, otherwise silent.

Derek reaches out almost tentatively, spreading Stiles’s ass cheeks and frowning at the bruised, worried flesh, skin still red, “I’ll keep you comfortable when we go outside today, but if it gets to the point where I think you need to sit down, we’re coming back here.”

He leans up, pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s back, “We’re gonna have to be careful after this.”

“Careful,” Stiles repeats in agreeance and wiggles a little, “But for now, you should totally do a little more of the kissing thing.” He smiles a little and hugs the pillow closer, “Feels nice.”

“Do you hurt anywhere else?” Derek asks as he continues kissing along Stiles’s skin, his hands running up the bruised flesh of Stiles’s backside as he glances up at the younger man.

“'All over' seems to sum it up pretty well,” Stiles hums at the soft presses of Derek’s lips against his skin, trying to staunch down a small shiver.

Derek reaches up, running his hand through the back of Stiles’s hair and pressing his lips to the nape of the younger man’s neck, “You’re practically spotted black and blue, we’re lucky none of it’ll be in places people can see, otherwise they’d think you were being abused,” Not that he’d argue that accusation, he’s already feeling guilty enough about it as it is.

Stiles turns a little under Derek and gazes up at him inquisitively, “You’re starting to feel guilty, aren’t you?” He asks knowingly and sighs, reaching up to wrap his arms around the werewolf’s neck, pulling him into a snug embrace, “This is why I didn’t wanna say anything, ‘cause I knew you’d see it differently than I do.”

“Explain to me how **you** see it,” Derek says, lifting a brow as he pulls back to stare into Stiles’s eyes, “Now that things are coming back, I don’t see why you’re not angry with me about what I did to you.”

“I’m not angry with you because it was worth it,” Stiles says defiantly, staring up into the werewolf’s eyes, “In my mind, I was yours before, but now-now I’m… It’s more permanent,” He explains, one hand moving to smooth against Derek’s scruff, thumb brushing against his mate’s jaw, “It’s probably cheesy as hell, but I could never regret doing something that links me to you like this… And the bruises, the ache, all they are is a fleeting reminder.”

Derek lays Stiles back down, pushing the boy’s hands above his head and the werewolf laces their fingers together, thumbs brushing along Stiles’s as he gives the younger man a pointed look before leaning down and taking Stiles’s left nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting the flesh enough to leave a mark, and then he pulls back and looks Stiles in the eyes, “I can mark you up as much as I want, I would’ve, but the ones on your hips? They’re different.”

“Not entirely,” Stiles gasps and watches Derek raptly, body arching from the bed of it’s own accord to get closer to the older man, “I’ll still think of you when I look at them, they’re all the same to me.”

Derek moves one hand down, brushing Stiles’s cheek as he frowns at the boy’s response, “They shouldn’t be. I made you cry.”

“Don’t,” Stiles starts and shakes his head, because he knew Derek was going to get like this, “If I’m not allowed to pout, then neither are you. I mean, we’re **mates** now, for fuck’s sake.”

“We are,” Derek agrees, sitting up and looking at Stiles for a moment. He’s been rough with the younger man **plenty** of times before, even when they weren’t together, shoved him against things, but he’s never actually hurt Stiles.

He’ll make it up, somehow, but the more he tries to talk to Stiles about it the more he seems to be annoying the boy, “Get dressed, we’ve got places to be.” He turns and picks up Stiles’s plate and glass of milk before taking them into the kitchen.

Stiles wants to protest at the distance Derek puts between them, but he just watches the older man and is mildly grateful for once that he can’t read the guy’s mind. The werewolf is a martyr through and through, but he kind of wishes Derek could see the situation for what it is; a **good** thing.

He moves slowly as he watches his mate’s retreating back and pulls his clothes on, smiling a little at the fact that if they encounter any other werewolves in the run of the day, they’re going to know **exactly** who he belongs to just by his scent.

Derek takes care of the dishes quickly, walking back into the main room and watching Stiles for a moment before he moves to the boy, reaching up to touch Stiles’s neck as he leans in and presses his lips to the younger man’s temple, “Ready?”

“Yep,” Stiles responds and grins weakly when Derek kisses him, hand moving out to snag a hold of the older man’s shirt, keeping him close for a moment so he can kiss him properly.

He sighs out his contentment against Derek’s lips, then pulls back tentatively, “Ready.”

Derek drops his hand to Stiles’s lower back, guiding him to the door and walking out into the elevator, keeping Stiles close, “You don’t happen to have an… Unusual fear of parades, do you?”

“Well,” Stiles purses his lips and leans into Derek mindlessly, “There was the one time when a kid almost took one of my eyes out by tossing the candy from a float too hard, but they’re pretty cool in general. No lingering, traumatizing effects, I suppose.”

He smiles then and raises a curious brow, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“Kind of,” Derek says passively, “Not exactly, though,” He drops his hand from Stiles’s back and takes the boy’s hand, “How are you feeling so far?”

“I’m fine,” Stiles answers honestly and squeezes Derek’s hand, “A little mild discomfort, I’ve definitely felt worse.”

Derek nods and draws in more of Stiles’s pain, “If you feel _even that_ , I want you to tell me. We shouldn’t have mated last night… But I… Got tired of waiting.”

“Tired of waiting?” Stiles chuckles and watches the black veins become prominent in Derek’s hand before meeting his eyes, “We’ve been together for like, a month and a half. And yeah, we’ve established that both of us totally had the hots for one another before then, but… How long have you wanted to mate me?”

“That’s kind of irrelevant,” Derek says, rolling his eyes as he opens the passenger’s side door for Stiles, “We’re mated now.”

Stiles narrows his brows at how blase Derek’s acting about it, “Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” He asks and keeps his hand firmly attached to the werewolf’s, looking at the older man seriously, “It’s relevant enough. I asked you a question, Derek. I don’t see the big deal.”

“I don’t think it’s something you need to know,” Derek responds as he stares back at Stiles, “Telling you about how I’ve felt for a while seems… Pointless. You already know I’ve been interested for a while, why do you need to know more?”

“I guess I don’t,” Stiles says flatly and fights the urge to frown, then pulls his hand from Derek’s to get in the car, “Forget about it,” He says. He’s not particularly enthralled about the double standards, but he’s not going to push Derek like he did with Stiles about his pain.

Derek sighs and shuts Stiles’s door, walking around to the driver’s side, climbing in and closing the door before turning to look at the younger man, “Why do you wanna know?”

“Why do I wanna know **anything** , Derek?” Stiles responds with a question, brows steadily climbing up his forehead, “Just because I **want to know**.”

He flails a little bit, “I’d like to think **you** know what kinda person I am by now, I like to know things… Maybe I just kinda wanna know if you’ve been wanting to bone me as long as I’ve been wanting to bone you.”

Derek isn’t fond of the lewd terminology, but he settles for answering Stiles’s question the best he can, “I’ve wanted you longer than I’ve known you.”

Stiles’s brows narrow then and he splutters a little bit out of confusion, “What?” He asks, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s why I don’t think it’s something you need to know,” Derek responds as he starts the car and pulls out of his parking spot, “It’s not easy to explain, and you’ll just have more questions for me.”

“And that bothers you,” Stiles says and it’s more of a statement than a question, because he’s seen the way Derek huffs and rolls his eyes any time he gets in one of his inquisitive moods.

“Right,” He sighs to himself and resigns to looking out his window.

“Kind of,” Derek agrees, “If you promise you won’t ask more questions, I’ll explain it as simply as possible.”

“Expecting me not to ask more questions is like telling someone not to wipe their ass after they shit, it’s confusing and I can’t **not** do it,” Stiles says stubbornly, “If me running my mouth bothers you so much, then forget about it, dude.”

“I never said I didn’t expect you to have questions, and to ask them, I’m asking you **not** to,” Derek responds, looking at Stiles, “Or at least not to expect me to answer them. But if you have that little control, then you can just go on not knowing, that’s also fine.”

“Fine,” Stiles huffs out and crosses his arms, clenching his mouth shut as he looks back out the window again. Valentine’s Day was off to a nice start.

Derek shrugs and looks back to the road, it’s not his concern, if Stiles doesn’t think he can keep his mouth shut than he’s better off not knowing about it. He reaches across the seats and takes Stiles’s hand, drawing away any pain the boy might have that he isn’t voicing aloud.

Stiles all but glares at Derek and looks down to their hands, waiting until the pain eases up before pulling his hand away, crossing his arms again as he looks resolutely back out the window.

“Why are you upset?” Derek asks in confusion when he feels Stiles pull away and he glances over at the expression on the boy’s face.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Stiles pries his eyes from the passing scenery and looks at Derek, “Why the fuck did you even wanna mate me if I get on your damn nerves so much?” He asks, stomach twisting sickly.

Derek narrows his brows and looks away again, parking finally and clenching his jaw tightly for a moment before climbing out of the car and walking around to Stiles’s side, opening the door and offering his hand to the younger man.

Stiles snorts softly and looks at the hand for a moment, then proceeds to climb out by himself without the help.

Derek grabs Stiles’s arm and stares him in the eyes firmly, “Don’t act like this,” He says as he swallows tightly, “Don’t push me away just because I won’t give you everything you want.”

“It has nothing to do with what I want, Derek,” Stiles grits out and pulls his arm away, brows narrowing intensely as he stares back, “I’m just wondering if I made a fucking mistake falling for and mating with a stubborn ass werewolf who can barely tolerate me half the time."

"You roll your eyes at me over **everything** , you get all huffy and pissy, not to mention the double standards. You **made** me tell you about my pain when I didn’t want to, but you don’t even wanna answer one fucking question for me. It’s stupid.”

Derek stands back a little, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Stiles and considers the boy’s words, “You’re wondering if you made a mistake?”

“After everything I just said, that’s the one thing you latch onto?” Stiles asks and growls out in frustration, reaching up to card his fingers through his hair before pacing a little.

“Yeah, it is,” Derek responds, “Why would you say something like that?” He asks, but he doesn’t think he wants to know the answer, “If you’re that doubtful, then why are we even bothering to do **any** of this?”

Stiles frowns at Derek’s last question and fights down the lump rising in his throat, “I asked because I think it’s shitty that you can expect things from me, demand me to answer you, but you don’t do the same for me. That’s not how fucking relationships work, Derek.”

“I was expecting answers from you because I was concerned about having raped you,” Derek says back, breathing out of his nose as he looks away, “You’re asking me about something that happened years ago, and something that isn’t life threatening.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles argues, standing still long enough to level Derek with a hurt look, “It’s the principle of the thing, okay? You ask me something and I don’t wanna tell you, you made me tell you anyways. I asked you a question and you straight up don’t wanna answer it, that’s shady as fuck and it’s not fair in the slightest.”

“And now you’re second guessing our entire relationship,” Derek says conclusively, nodding and taking another deep breath as he looks around at the crowd on the street some ways away.

“I’m taking you home,” He says then, motioning for Stiles to sit back in the car, “Come on.”

“You’re not taking me anywhere,” Stiles says defiantly and takes off walking toward the crowd of people, wincing and fighting the tears threatening to spill.

He doesn’t understand why Derek doesn’t get what he’s saying. There shouldn’t be double standards in a fucking relationship, regardless of how dire the situation is. And what irks him even more, is the fact that the werewolf thinks that that’s why he’s having doubts, when the origin of his doubt stems from Derek not really accepting all of him, who he is as a person.

Derek frowns and watches after Stiles, but he doesn’t follow, he’s half tempted to just go back to his place and forget the last two days even happened.

The last thing he wanted was to have a fight with Stiles, it doesn’t really help that a stupid holiday is involved. He looks warily at the car, closing the passenger’s side door and following after Stiles, but keeping a significant distance between them.

Stiles doesn’t look back like he wants to to see if Derek is close by. Instead, he tries to ignore the growing pain in favor of weaving through the crowd of people littering the sidewalk, slowly making his way down the street until he spots an opening. He doesn’t take it, though, because his entire mood is kind of spoiled and the last thing he wants right now is to watch a fucking parade, so he slinks back against one of the buildings and crosses his arms.

Derek joins Stiles and stares at the crowd as he leans against the wall, “I didn’t bring you here to watch the parade.”

Stiles grits his teeth and part of him wants to ignore Derek, but he can’t, “Well then **why** did you bring me here?” He asks lowly, not bothering to look at the older man.

“There’s something else set up close by,” Derek explains as he looks at Stiles, “I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t panic around large crowds.”

Stiles still keeps his gaze resolutely away from Derek and scoffs weakly, “Surprise, I’m not panicking.”

“I noticed,” Derek responds as people start screaming and cheering as the parade starts.

He leans down to whisper, or rather _shout_ into Stiles’s ear so the boy can hear him, “I know you’re upset, but standing here isn’t helping the situation. If you come with me, it’s more private where we’re going, we can talk there.”

Stiles feels his resolve slipping and he looks at Derek even though he doesn’t want to, trying to keep his stony expression in place as he raises his brows and shrugs, “Lead the way.”

Derek takes Stiles’s hand, even though he’s sure the boy doesn’t want him to, but Stiles has to be in some amount of pain, so he draws it in quickly and lets go.

He leads Stiles carefully through the crowd, glancing back to make sure Stiles is behind him and then he joins a smaller crowd in front of a large building. He puts his hands in his jacket pockets and looks at Stiles, watching him silently as the people continue cheering and clapping wildly around them.

Stiles follows quietly and stops when Derek stops, but he’s just as confused as before as he looks around to observe their surroundings. He glances at the older man then and shrugs as the corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, “Okay? I still don’t understand.”

“You’ll see,” Derek says as he leans in close to speak, “Once we get inside, you’ll see.” He turns back, pointedly ignoring the way the couples before them hold one another and he moves as the line shortens, paying the man at the front door and letting Stiles go before him.

The room they enter is large and dark, and while Derek can easily see the people ahead of him, he’s overly aware of the fact that Stiles can’t. He turns to Stiles as he glances up, “Just keep walking forward.”

Stiles is starting to feel a little jittery over the fact that he can’t really see anything, but he trusts Derek and does what the older man says, walking in further with no way to gauge when to stop.

Derek reaches out, resting his hand on Stiles’s lower back and guiding him into the next room, just as dark, but there’s light enough to see the people sitting on the ground in the room and he walks Stiles a short way to their left, where there’s barely anyone around and he glances up again, “Lay down on your back.”

“I just want you to know how creepy this is,” Stiles says in a harsh whisper and sits down at first, narrowing his eyes a little to look around in the dark room before laying back on the floor.

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s looking up at, but then he smiles and rolls his head to look at Derek, “Are you **sure** you’re not a closet romantic?”

“I’m not,” Derek says, but smiles at Stiles’s reaction, “I’m just observant.”

He shrugs, “I came in here last week, thought you might like it.” Although the general idea of him even stumbling on a place like this is probably an unusual one on it’s own.

“I do,” Stiles confirms and realizes belatedly that he was upset with Derek not even ten minutes ago, so his smile fades a little and he rolls his head back to stare up at the twinkling stars.

Derek frowns at Stiles’s sudden mood change, but it’s not unexpected. He lays down beside the other man, not even bothering to look up as he stares at his mate, “When I first saw you in the woods with Scott, that was the moment I wanted to mate you.”

Stiles’s brows notch together as Derek speaks and then he rolls his head to the side again to look at his mate, thoughtfully considering what to say. He wants to ask questions, just like he knew he would, wants to know _why_ and what drew Derek to him, but at this point he can’t really bring himself to ask, because of the argument with the werewolf.

“Okay,” He says simply, withholding from saying anything else.

Derek reaches out and takes Stiles’s hand again, “You can ask, Stiles,” He says tentatively, “I know you want to.”

“And I know you don’t want me to,” Stiles responds softly and stares at Derek in the dim lighting, “It’s…” He wants to say ‘fine’ or ‘good’, but in reality, it’s not. So instead of finishing, he just shrugs weakly.

Derek stares back at Stiles still, “It’s who I am,” He says in a low voice, “I’m not open like you are, I’m not talkative, and I don’t like it when people expect different results. You already know that about me, why are you suddenly taking it personally?”

“Maybe because I thought that if you opened up to anyone, that it’d be me,” Stiles responds honestly and calmly, “I’m trying to let it go, I’m not pushing and asking questions like I want to. It’s difficult for you to say a lot and it’s difficult for me to shut up, but I’ll work on it.”

“I don’t want you to work on it,” Derek says back, smiling slightly, “I don’t mind the pushing, even though I don’t **like** it, it’s probably necessary. Opening up to someone, even you, is going to take time. So will you ask your questions already? I’m **asking** you to.”

“Why me?” Stiles asks first, but he doesn’t return the older man’s smile.

Derek shrugs, “I can’t tell you that, I don’t actually know the answer. But you have qualities anyone with half a brain would seek in a mate - courage, humor, concern, loyalty, and you’re smart.”

“You just answered my second question,” Stiles blurts out, “Totally throwing me off here, b-but um… When you say ‘humor’,” He says the word slowly, “Is that a subtle way of saying you actually think I’m funny?”

“Sarcastic, funny,” Derek shrugs again, “Mildly entertaining, you can be serious when you have to be, but yeah, you’re amusing.”

“Knew it,” Stiles says to himself in a low voice and rolls completely to his side then, to better look at Derek, “Okay, so all of those qualities are something to admire in someone you **know** , but what attracted you to me initially? It was my lithe body and my undeniable sex appeal, wasn’t it?” He jokes.

“Attracted me to you?” Derek asks as he considers the boy, “Probably neither, though I noticed both,” He stares into Stiles’s eyes firmly, “ **I** didn’t really like you until some time after I bit Jackson. I didn’t become attracted to you until you started growing your hair out, and I realized I hated it.”

“Oh,” Stiles says and frowns a little, then reaches up to run a hand over his buzz cut, “Probably a good thing I cut it all back off then, yeah?”

Derek chuckles and shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter either way. It was just after that that I started looking at you the way my wolf had been looking at you from day one. It was infuriating, if I’m being honest.”

“Why?” Stiles asks curiously, “I mean, I know I’m not the kinda person people line up for, but come **on**. I’m… _Mate material_ ,” He says unsurely.

“You’re more than that,” Derek says at once, “You’re the only person I’ve met that that side of me wanted. I **didn’t** want to be attracted to you in any way because I…” He let out a breath and turned finally, looking up at the roof, “I didn’t wanna be attracted to anyone.”

“Suddenly your general moodiness towards me in the past is starting to make sense,” Stiles says and scoots closer to Derek, lifting the alpha’s arm and snuggling against his chest before looking up as well.

Derek turns to brush his lips against Stiles’s forehead, “It wasn’t personal,” He says softly, “You didn’t make it easy.”

Stiles rests his hand on Derek’s chest next to his head and smiles as he watches a shooting star flit across the ceiling, “Yeah? Tell me the ways I’ve made life difficult for you.”

“Half of it was just how determined you were,” Derek admits, “Asking questions, trying to solve things, getting into trouble. And your jeans…”

Stiles perks up at that and looks at Derek’s face, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a wry, lop-sided grin, “What about my jeans?”

“They’re tight,” The alpha says and smirks, “The way you dress in general has always been distracting. And the moment I started looking at you like… All I wanted to do was rip those skinny jeans down your legs and knot you.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” Stiles says lowly and leans up a little further to press a feather light kiss to Derek’s lips, “We could’ve had this show on the road a long time ago.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want to be in a relationship,” Derek mutters softly, “But it seemed like the harder I tried, the more I wanted you, and then you pointed out that mistletoe and… I couldn’t help myself.”

  
[MageStiles](http://magestiles.tumblr.com/) ϟ [Sparklinski](http://sparklinski.tumblr.com/)  



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